Mad WorLd
by Malaria Vincent
Summary: A bloody look at the boys of Wammy's House. An issue with Mello brings up painful memories for L, and the appearance of an old 'friend' sparks a truly bloody revelation.
1. I Wammy's House

**I-Wammy's House**

_This place_…

Mello found himself once again staring vacantly out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that provided most of the light in the massive library, watching the first rays of sunlight break over the horizon. He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair only to have the pale strands fall into his eyes again.

_This place is so boring_.

Lately, the days within the walls of Wammy's House had slowly begun to bleed over into each other making it nearly impossible to tell one day from the next. It was as though time only truly existed as something to be experienced, cherished even, on the other side of the glass. Outside, the sun was beginning to catch in the dew that clung to the grass, making everything sparkle. As the darkness began to fade, Mello could see that the large trees that lined the walk were decorated in brilliant red, orange, and yellow and flecks of colour littered the stone pathways.

Mello rapped his long fingers on the table in front of him, crossing and re-crossing his legs impatiently. Every day, like clockwork, he would wait in the library until he heard the telltale clicking of Quillsh's shoes on the hardwood floors as the man made his way to the kitchen for breakfast. He would sit still and hold his breath as Quillsh passed the non-existent library door and wait until he knew the man was nearly to the end of the hallway before he dared to move. Quillsh was easily in his sixties, but he noticed more than people thought he did, largely because almost no one noticed _him_.

Today was no different. Mello exhaled slowly once Quillsh had past, counting under his breath, "Eins, Zwei, Drei…" until he reached 21. At 21, Quillsh was at the end of the hallway, and had reached the stairway. That meant that Mello could walk down after him without making Quillsh think he was being followed. He would simply think that Mello was one of those rare children that actually liked getting up early, rather than assuming the blonde had been up all night, which was usually the case. Closing his book and standing as quietly as he could, he turned to follow the old man…only to find him standing just behind him.

Mello jumped, bringing his gloved hands up to his chest with a ridiculously feminine squeak. Mentally kicking himself, both for the noise and for not paying closer attention, he fell back a step to lean against the table.

"Hello." Quillsh said simply, smiling effortlessly at the slightly panicky blonde in front of him. "So, this is how you always manage to be the first one downstairs. I've told you before that it's not good for you to stay up all night when you don't have to." He continued in the tone of a loving grandfather as Mello fought to get his heart restarted.

"I-Ich…" Mello stuttered, lapsing into his native German for an instant before remembering he was supposed to be practicing his English. "Um, how did you..?" His voice trailed off when he reflexively glanced down and realised that the man was in his stocking feet, the dark grey socks chosen to match his suit.

Quillsh brought his hand out from behind his back to reveal that he was carrying his shoes. A sharp bark of laughter clawed its way out of Mello's throat. Taking off your shoes in order to sneak up on someone was something people did at 12, not 65. He stared up at Quillsh in pure disbelief. That gentle, grandfatherly smile that crinkled the man's eyes behind his spectacles never left his face as he reached out to ruffle Mello's brass-blonde hair now that the boy could breathe again. "I admit, it took me a few days to figure out how you were doing it. That was impressive, Mello."

"Danke." Mello said softly, disbelievingly. Being complimented for being sneaky wasn't necessarily normal, even for Mello. It was even stranger that Quillsh didn't reprimand him for slipping into German. The man was still smiling as though nothing at all was the least bit out of the ordinary.

"Come on," Quillsh placed a hand on Mello's shoulder. The boy could feel the warmth of his hand through his jacket. "Let's go get some breakfast." Mello almost laughed again. He'd been under-estimating the old man, he thought as he walked along the cavernous hallway at Quillsh's side, falling into step with him despite the notable difference in their height.

_Well, well…maybe this place isn't so boring after all._

**********************************

"Guten morgen!" Mello's clear voice met his ears as L stepped into the kitchen.

"Guten morgen." L replied with his trademark lack of enthusiasm. He brushed a pale hand through his disheveled hair, only succeeding in causing it to stick out in the opposite direction than it previously was. Why so many people considered L such a perfectionist was beyond him. It L was a perfectionist, it didn't show in his dress or mannerisms whatsoever. He was barefoot and wore plain blue jeans that were about two sizes too big for him and hung low on his hips. The white long-sleeved shirt looked too big for him as well, but was several inches too short in the sleeves. He was considered underweight for his height, and his thick black hair constantly looked as though he'd just gotten out of bed.

"Didn't sleep well?" Mello asked, leaning forward as L sat down across from him at the table, pulling his legs up so that his knees were against his chest. Mello always asked that question, referring to the dark circles under L's eyes that he had always thought made him look as though he'd slept in heavy makeup.

"No." L replied shortly. "Didn't sleep at all." He looked up at Mello, eyes wide and unblinking as always. L's sleep schedule consisted mostly of short naps taken when he could get them. He only really needed bed rest every 5 or 6 days. Still, the lack of any rest at all tended to make him rather irritable.

"Now, now, boys." said Quillsh, with the patience of a grandfather babysitting his grandsons, "Don't fight at the table." He set L and Mello's plates gently on the table before popping back through a revolving door to check on the kitchen staff. Left alone again, Mello shook his head at the plate of food Quillsh had given L. Cake, Panda cookies, and Pocky were hardly 'breakfast'.

"How can you stand to eat like that?" he asked, grimacing slightly as L stirred cube after cube of sugar into his coffee. He had to look away after the ninth cube. The thought of the sugary sludge forming in the bottom of that cup was starting to make him physically sick. "I'd think you'd get sick from all that sugar."

"I'm not the only one," L gestured with his fork, which he held almost daintily between his thumb and index finger, to Mello's plate, which was mainly filled with chocolate. "I'm surprised you're still so thin, Mello-kun."

Mello blushed a bit at being addressed in such a familiar way. He sat back in his chair, crossing his legs and letting his shoulder-length hair fall forward to hide the pink tinge that burned his cheeks. "Least I'm not underweight." He muttered, fiddling with the wrapper of one of his chocolate bars. He could have sworn he heard L laugh softly, as though Mello were a child.

The two sat together in a strangely comfortable silence as they finished their breakfast. This was how their mornings typically went: a lackadaisical play fight followed by sitting quietly across the table from one another, neither knowing quite what to say until the others came down from upstairs and gave them someone else to talk to.

**********************************

Matt's heavy boots thudded loudly on the staircase as he made his way down to the kitchen. It was just after 8 o'clock, which meant that L and Mello had been sitting in near silence for almost an hour. He paused for a moment at the edge of the hardwood, looking from Mello to L and back again.

"What'd I miss?" He asked, taking his tray from the counter. So far he was the only one of them with an actual breakfast. He sat down in the empty chair between the other two, resting his elbows on the table and placing his chin on his hands.

"Nothing." L answered, brief and to the point as always.

"Guten morgen, Matt." Mello said softly, not really looking at the other boy. He wasn't exactly sure what it was about Matt that made him so nervous, but whenever he was around him, he found it more difficult to speak. In any language.

Maybe it was simply because the boy was still a bit unfamiliar. Mello and L had been at Wammy's House nearly all their lives, but Matt had only come to live there a little over a year ago. If Mello remembered correctly, the redhead had come here straight from the hospital after his father killed his mother and then himself. Matt had escaped without so much as a scratch, though.

Matt smiled. "Guten morgen, Mello." He answered, a little unsure of his pronunciation. When Mello smiled at him, he knew it was at least understandable. He had slowly been picking up the language from being around Mello, and he knew that the blonde was still more comfortable in German even though it severely limited the number of people he could talk to. As far as Matt knew, no one besides L, Near, and possibly Quillsh spoke German.

For a few minutes, the three of them sat in silence, with Matt focused intensely on the plate in front of him, Mello nipping at the last of a chocolate bar, and L sipping what was, by now, a cup of moist, coffee-flavoured sugar. Mello found himself glancing over at Matt every few minutes. How did someone who seemed so normal end up here?

Matt, in all honesty, was by far the most normal of the group. He dressed in comfortable clothes and boots that made him look like a kid playing dress-up. He had sharp, green eyes under somewhat tousled, dark red hair, which was always a bit squished down due to the goggles he, for some reason, wore constantly. Right now, with the goggles pushed up on his head, Mello could see just how green his eyes really were. Without the glass to filter the colour, Matt's eyes went from just a pale green to a deep, drowning jade. The change was truly remarkable. Mello started to wonder why Matt didn't go without those goggles more often when L broke his train of thought.

"Well, then, shall we go find Near?" The man asked, standing gracefully from his strange position, and shoving his hands into his pockets. "He should be awake by now."

"Yeah!" Matt suddenly sounded so childish that Mello had to look to be sure it was the same person. His voice had been at least an octave higher. Shaking his head, Mello stood to follow them. He could never explain just what it was about Near that both L and Matt found so adorable. Maybe it was the way he seemed to mimic L's childish mannerisms, or the way he always seemed to know things that no one else did, but was so young that it took quite an effort to take him seriously. Oh, well. He wasn't sure he really cared that much.

**********************************

The room was dimly lit, but it was a soft, comforting darkness. The only light came from the small bedside lamp, switched on at its lowest setting. The door fell shut behind L with a soft click. The small boy seated in the centre of the floor, surrounded by children's toys, never glanced up at them. L stepped forward.

"Hello, Near." He said softly.

"Hello, L." The boy deadpanned, finally turning to face them. He looked very young, 12 or 13, maybe. Honestly, he was seventeen. His skin was pale as milk, from what could be seen of it, and his eyes were wide and bright under a gentle fall of white-blonde hair, one lock of which he was twirling around his finger. Such an innocent gesture seemed somehow out of place coming from Near, whose surprisingly dark eyes were fixed on the three of them. The intensity of that stare always reminded Mello very strongly of L.

That was it. That was why the boy irked him. He was nothing more than a cheap copy of L. To Mello, L was, and always would be, the best. This boy wasn't L, and he never would be no matter how much, or how easily he mimicked him. Still, every gesture he made reminded him of the older man, and it made him sick. The two were so similar that whenever Near jabbed at him, it was like being rejected by L.

Matt, oblivious and grinning like an idiot, stepped forward to stand next to L. "I haven't seen you in a while, Near." He said cheerily, as though they were old friends. "How have you been?"

Near didn't answer, preferring instead to focus on the puzzle on the floor in front of him. Eventually, his hand stilled over the pieces. "Why is he here?"

Mello tensed, crossing his arms over his chest. The soft creaking of his leather jacket caused Matt to glance back at him. He didn't like Near and he made no effort to hide it. Did he realise how obnoxious he was? Just being around the boy brought that familiar cold rush through his body that made him clench his gloved hands in the front of his jacket to keep from doing something he'd end up regretting.

"Mello," L's low, smooth voice pulled the blonde from his thoughts. "Are you alright?" There was something markedly different in the older man's voice. He was worried. Mello watched L's gunmetal-grey eyes. For just a moment, he saw his gaze flicker down to his arms, which trembled slightly, still crossed over his chest. L knew.

The blonde drew a slow, steadying breath and nodded. He was freezing. His heartbeat seemed deafening in the small room and he could physically hear the blood rushing in his veins. His throat was dry and he suddenly felt sick. He'd always been so careful. How did L possibly find out?

Matt placed a hand gently on Mello's shoulder, not quite sure what was really going on, but trying to be helpful. Even through the heavy leather jacket, he could feel how tense the blonde was. "Hey," he whispered, stepping closer. "What's wrong?"

"No, it's nothing." Mello breathed, his voice hollow. "Just a little dizzy." He sounded weak, as if he'd just woken up. One thin hand clutched the silver crucifix he wore around his neck. Matt cocked his head at him, a worried expression ghosting over his features, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he turned his attention back to Near.

"So," He said, clearly fishing for something to say.

"Maybe he should go to the hospital." Near's calm voice smoothly interrupted him. "If he's feeling ill, that is."

Mello clenched his teeth so hard he nearly cracked them. He wanted nothing more than to punch that emotionless brat right in the face. Actually, he did want something more.

Mello turned on his heel, wrenching the door open and barking something in German over his shoulder, his heavy Berlin accent making it sound harsh and rough, like a terrible insult. He slammed the door behind him, leaving the three of them standing in Near's room in a stunned silence. Matt was the first to speak.

"Wow. What was that?" He asked, looking up at L, who was still staring at the heavy door Mello had passed through. The older man finally tore his gaze away from the door to focus on the small boy who sat at his feet, having never taken his eyes from puzzle.

"Don't use me as a tool to solve your puzzles. I'm not a game." L translated Mello's German for Matt's sake. Near knew full well what the blonde had said. "What did he mean by that?"

Near didn't answer right away. Placing the final puzzle piece in its place, he curled his hands around the frame, picking it up and turning it. The pure white pieces fell onto the floor in a disorganised heap. Setting the frame down, he picked up a corner piece, fitting it easily into place. As he continued to work, he answered, "If you can't solve the puzzle, then you're just a loser."


	2. Stray Dogs

Not entirely sure just where I'm going with this, so this chapter is a little weak. I wrote it last night and I don't remember that much of it. Mello is kind of girly, I know, and I'm sorry. It's just how it worked out. The next one will probably focus on L and will probably be kind of bloody. Just warning you now.

By the way, I don't own any of the stuff I use. This is just what happens when I get bored.

************************

**II-Stray Dogs**

Mello's boots clicked loudly against the concrete walkway. His body was still trembling, and the pressure in his chest was nearly unbearable. He hated Near for getting under his skin like he did, but he hated himself even more for allowing it. Subconsciously, he found himself tugging on the edge of his glove. Wrapping his hand around his wrist, and taking a slow, calming breath, he tried to clear his thoughts.

Even a month ago, Mello would have gone straight back to his room after something as frustrating as this, but he'd been doing very well lately. He would go outside and walk around the grounds for a while until he calmed down again. Wammy's House was set on 75 acres of manicured lawns and winding pathways, which gave the volatile blonde more than enough space when he needed it. While it didn't always work, the sharp bite of fall that hung in the air did seem to help. The moment he stepped outside, he felt like he could breathe again. However, now he really did have something to worry about. L.

Wammy's House, the sprawling mansion that it was, functioned as both an orphanage and boarding school. Mello was simply a 'damaged genius'. But, like almost everything else, those records were sealed. No one knew about any of that here. No one except L.

But that didn't make sense. Yes, L was Quillsh's favourite, but that didn't mean he had access to classified information. Quillsh wasn't the type to do something like that. So, how?

Could he have figured it out on his own? Possibly. L's observational skills were always working on overdrive. He may have noticed the way Mello tugged his sleeves down over his gloves, making sure that he was always covered. But he'd always been careful not to do that too much around other people. But L had a habit of blending into the walls when he wanted to, so it's possible that he just didn't notice him. Mello's train of thought was broken when the man himself fell casually into step beside him.

"Hello, L." He said simply, not looking at him.

"Is Mello-kun feeling better?" L asked in that obnoxiously childish way.

"I'm alright, L." The blonde answered calmly. And he was. "Near just gets to me sometimes, that's all."

L stopped walking, letting Mello get a few paces ahead of him before he spoke. "'I'm not a game', huh?" Mello froze. In fact, time itself seemed to freeze then. The golden leaves that fell slowly through from the trees to rest on the ground around them hung suspended in mid-air. After what felt like hours, he spun on his heel to face L, who was watching him with a blank, unreadable expression.

"H-how…" Mello found himself stuttering again, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so scared. Although, it being L, he doubted that he would need much more than that one phrase and his startled reaction to figure it all out.

"_You're not the only one who speaks German_." L said in the named language. "_Near knows what you said, as well, but I think you were counting on that_."

Mello couldn't breathe. He felt dizzy, lightheaded. He remembered what it was like in school when his best friend found out, and…No, that's stupid. L wouldn't tell anyone. He wasn't that kind of person. But if Near found out…Mello shook his head. "_What do you know_?" He asked softly.

"_Probably less than you think I do_." L told him, placing his thumbnail between his teeth. "_Though I have a fairly_ _good idea based on the simple fact that you dress like this year-round_." He gestured loosely to Mello's clothes: knee-high boots, tight jeans, a leather jacket zipped almost all the way up, and leather gloves, all black. L continued, "_Seems like you're hiding something to me."_

Mello laughed then, a high, barking yelp that made him sound vaguely disturbed. He curled a thin, faintly trembling hand around his wrist, and took a deep breath. He couldn't believe what he was about to say.

**********************************

Matt lounged in the small, padded chair in the corner of Near's room, green eyes glued to the screen of his Nintendo DS. Near sat several feet from him, piecing together the same puzzle for the fifth time in a row. The distraction usually kept Matt's presence from getting on his nerves. After about twenty minutes, the redhead put his game on pause, and looked over at the other boy for a moment before he spoke.

"Hey, Near? What did Mello mean earlier? You know, when he said not to use him as a tool to solve your puzzles." Matt rested his elbows on his knees, cocking his head.

"Mello is too emotional." Near answered simply. "He takes things far too personally." The boy never glanced away from his puzzle, and the tone of his voice never changed. Unlike Mello, Near was always in control.

Matt didn't know what to say. He also didn't know how Near could put that puzzle together so quickly. The snow-white pieces all looked the same to him. Yes, Mello was sometimes difficult to deal with due to his occasionally violent mood swings, but when he was calm, he was a completely different person. Both Near and L were normally so emotionless that they came across as extremely cold, but Mello…Mello was human. In fact, Mello was a rather jarring reminder of all their humanity.

"Yes, but he's a nice guy deep down. He's just a little mixed up." Matt wasn't quite sure what to make of what Near had said. Since when did having any emotions at all make you 'too emotional'? He wasn't sure about Mello, but Near seemed to thoroughly enjoy the games he played with the older boy.

"He seems to deride contending with me." Near continued in a monotone, as if in answer to Matt's thoughts. "He has an excellent mind, however he is the kind that allows his emotions to get the better of him. Forgive me if I seem largely uninterested in his, pardon the expression, 'Mello-drama'."

Matt laughed a bit without meaning to. Near didn't strike him as the joking kind, so to hear him say something like that, small as the moment was, was almost surreal. He studied the boy in front of him for a moment. 'That's right.' He found himself thinking. 'We're human. I'm human. L is human. Even Near is human. So why does it never feel like it?'

Sitting sideways, kicking his legs over the arm of the chair, Matt left Near to his puzzle and returned to his game. He only had three levels left, and if was starting to bother him that he hadn't beaten it yet. Besides, he'd forgotten how just difficult Near was to talk to.

**********************************

The world was suddenly silent. Mello clutched his crucifix until his hand shook. L stood a few feet from him, grey eyes unreadable. Finally, he cocked his head slightly to his left, saying, "I thought as much."

"Please, L," Mello begged, the pitch of his voice just slightly higher from fear. "Please, don't tell anyone."

"You have my word that I will not." L said calmly. A thought seemed to cross his mind then, and he said, "Mello-kun? How long have you been doing this?" He saw the blond snarl for a split second before he seemed to force himself to answer.

"5 years." He bit out, his gaze fixed on the pavement. "Ever since I was ten." He was angry and making no effort to hide it. His tone and attitude would have been more than enough to make most people back down. L was not most people.

"Do you remember how it started?" The raven's voice sounded distant, as though he wasn't really there. Mello glanced up to find that L was staring up at the trees, lost in thought. He stared into space for several minutes, and Mello noticed that he moved slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as though he were uncomfortable. Like he would if he had to talk about something he really didn't want to talk about. All at once, he seemed to remember where he was and turned his attention back to the blonde boy in front of him. "Sorry," he breathed. "Just a memory."

"How did you know?" Mello asked a little more sharply than he meant to.

L didn't answer him. Instead, he glanced at the blonde's arms. "Let me see." It wasn't a question. Mello was suddenly 15 again. He stepped back, shaking his head, his eyes wide. L calmly extended a hand to him.

Mello took a breath. What could he do? You didn't tell someone like L 'no'. He shut his eyes and pushed his jacket sleeve up to his elbow. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. L exhaled softly, as though he were slightly shocked. Stepping forward, he placed a hand gently on Mello's arm. His thin fingers slowly traced the scars that criss-crossed the boy's pale skin in dark, red lines. To his relief, very few cuts were new.

"You've been trying to stop." L said simply. He recognised the bruises around the boy's wrist as a 'step-down' technique used to help people find better alternatives to self-injury. He looked up, catching the blonde's gaze. Mello's eyes were a bright, Germanic blue.

"I can't." Mello's voice trembled slightly. L was standing close enough that he felt a single tear hit his sleeve. He was crying. "It hurts, but I can't stop. Nothing else works, L." Tears ran in rivers down the boy's cheeks. He pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob.

The older man wasn't exactly used to these types of situations. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around the boy, pulling him close. "It's alright," he found himself saying. "I'm here. I've got you." The raven held him, letting him cry.

After about twenty minutes, when the blonde had calmed down again, L gently stepped away to give him his space, keeping a hand firmly on his arm. Mello looked up at him. "L, what am I supposed to do?" He sounded so lost. So young. Genius really was a curse sometimes.

"You can come with me to the hospital." L offered, seeming to think that was the best option. Mello shook his head and tried to step back, but L's grip on his arm kept him there. "Or…You can stay here. However, if you choose to stay, I will be keeping tabs on you for a while."

"I'll stay." Mello answered without any hesitation, relieved to avoid the hospital. It would have cameras everywhere, and Mello's paranoia wouldn't allow him to go somewhere that heavily supervised if he could avoid it. L could sympathise. He sighed and released his grip on the boy's arm. Mello hurriedly pulled his sleeve back down to his wrist, over his glove. "Hey, L." He said as a thought popped into his head. "Will it be just you watching me?"

To his surprise, L gave him an honest answer. "No, there will be others, but, of course, I can't tell you who they will be. I take it you're well enough to return, Mello-kun? The others are most likely concerned." Mello nodded and started to follow the other man as L made his way back to the house. Two stray dogs limping back home.


	3. Memory

Here it is…I wrote this kind of quick and it gets really heavy and pretty dark really fast. You've been warned.

Also, again I don't own any of this stuff, I just wish I did.

**III-Memory**

"So you know." Quillsh said softly, gaze fixed on the file that lay open on his desk. It was clear from his tone that he wasn't surprised at all. L crouched in a chair on the opposite side of the room, one fingernail placed thoughtfully between his teeth.

"Yes." The man answered, staring into space. "I know."

The two sat in the air-conditioned hush of Quillsh's office. It was nearly 1 a.m. Finally, the Englishman swiveled his desk chair to face the young detective. "He's such a bright boy. I just don't understand it." The older man held up the file for L to see. "Though, given this, I suppose I should. This is a record of Mihael Keehl before we found him."

L took the file from Quillsh's hand, holding it by the corners between his thumb and index finger. His heart nearly stopped as he began to read. Page after page of police reports and hospital bills spanning a full seven years were crammed into the folder. "My God," he breathed. "How is he still alive? Most children would have given up ages ago. I couldn't imagine…" L trailed off. It was a rare moment indeed when the man let a slight tinge of admiration colour his voice. Even rarer was the fact that, underneath the surprise and amazement, he was clearly concerned. Quillsh had seen his protégé show such an honest concern for someone else only once before. And it had nearly destroyed him.

"L," The man said gently, knowing what the younger was thinking. "He's not Auron."

"I know!" L snapped abruptly, causing Quillsh to jump at the sheer, raw emotion in the normally stoic man's voice. The younger man appeared a bit shocked himself. "I'm sorry, Watari." He murmured. "That was rude."

"No trouble. We'll keep our eyes on him when he's around the house, but you'll be responsible for him otherwise. But I'm sure that's nothing you can't handle." Quillsh responded, smiling as usual. If he needed any more proof, the harsh way L had responded to such a simple statement would have been more than enough. It was almost painfully clear now. L wanted to help Mello himself because he still blamed himself for his successor's suicide. The smile faded from the Englishman's face. Standing, Quillsh regarded the young man in front of him. What could he say? "Please, L…Be careful."

**********************************

A was a truly gifted boy. He was clever, outgoing, and friendly. He had everything he could ever want. And he committed suicide by hanging himself from a light fixture by a short piece of rope.

L shuddered faintly as he sat in the overstuffed chair. His memory was too good sometimes. The three of them had been so close. L, A and…He froze. B. Beyond had been Auron's best friend.

L sat back. Beyond was…psychotic. L had always thought there was something dangerously off about him. He was proven right only a year ago. Beyond was a killer, possibly worse. Could he have gotten to Auron? If he had, why had the boy hung himself? The length of the rope prevented his neck from snapping, leaving him to suffocate. Slitting your wrists was much faster. L would be lying if he said he'd never thought of it himself.

A sharp, sudden pain brought the raven out of his thoughts with a jolt. Blood ran along his arm, dripping slowly from his fingers. He'd forgotten just how mesmerising it was. Shaking his head, he realised what must have happened. There was a thin coating of blood on the fingertips of his right hand, meaning he must have dug his nails into his skin. The faint bruising around the cuts confirmed the theory.

It frightened him a bit. L tore his gaze from the blood nearly coating his lower arm, and forced himself to stand. Instantly, a wave of nausea hit him and he felt dizzy. How long had he been sitting there?

The records room was just off of Quillsh's office, separated by a heavy oak door. L raised a visibly trembling hand, knocking weakly. He stepped back when Quillsh opened the door, placing his hand over the wounds, which still bled heavily enough to soak through his sleeve from his elbow to where it stopped half-way down his forearm.

"Oh, L…" the man sighed. "Again?" It was exactly the same. Just like when he was 17. He'd found Watari then to, clutching his arm in pain and humiliation, blood flowing in warm rivers over his long fingers.

Quillsh took his adopted son's hand, ignoring the blood and leading him back to the desk. In all honesty, he'd thought this would happen, but he knew it would have been unwise to mention it to L. Mello would most likely become a trigger, being as he was very similar to Auron in a lot of ways. They had the same eyes.

The older man bandaged the raven's arm using the first-aid kit he kept in his desk. L had punctured the skin in four places, and apparently drug his hand down toward his wrist with the nails still embedded, ripping long, bleeding tracks in the pale flesh.

Quillsh wrapped L's left hand in both of his, looking into the boy's eyes. The younger looked steadily back at him, large eyes filled with real fear for an instant.

"Why?" L whispered, breaking their gaze to stare at his arm. "Why now?"

"They have the same eyes." Quillsh answered. L looked up at him, fighting the urge to shake his head.

"Auron was…" L began, then stopped, realising it was the wrong way to phrase what he wanted to say. He tried again, "Mello is a lot like me. He gets scared, but it also makes him angry." He tightened his grip on Quillsh's hand, avoiding the man's eyes. The motion caused the fresh wounds on the raven's arm to burn and pulse with his heartbeat. He was suddenly exhausted.

"You're very determined." Quillsh said softly, putting very slight pressure on the younger man's hand, as if to confirm his existence as well as reassure him. "Very strong-willed. Both of you."

"I tried."

"I know." Quillsh moved from his chair to kneel in front of L, who was sitting on the couch with his feet on the floor for once. "L, you have to understand this: It was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done."

"I almost said something." L breathed, staring down at their joined hands as though their contact was the only thing keeping him tethered in reality. "I should have done something."

"He wouldn't have listened."

"You don't know that!" L barked, shutting his eyes. Hot tears trailed down his cheeks. He hadn't cried in years, but talking about it, even in passing, was like re-living it all over again. L remembered it all too clearly. How unnaturally quiet it had been that day. He remembered how the rope still swung just slightly from the weight at the end of it that never should have been there in the first place. The heavy bruises around the boy's neck when they finally cut the rope. And Beyond…Beyond was laughing. A high, barking sound that ripped at L's mind like a razorblade. He was always laughing.

Quillsh closed a hand on L's right wrist and squeezed, forcing his hand open. His fingernails had dug into the palm of his hand, staining his fingerprints scarlet.

L released Quillsh's hand with a soft gasp, realising that the older man had the same crimson liquid running gently over his aged skin. L drew his trembling hands against his chest like a small child. He'd never hurt someone else before. "I'm sorry."

Quillsh only shook his head and moved to retrieve his first-aid kit. He knew from years of experience that there wasn't anything he could do for the man in his current mental state. All he could do now was let him know that he wasn't alone. Auron's death had affected them all, but none so much as L. That was painfully apparent in moments like these.

Wrapping the bandages tightly around his own hand, Quillsh said softly, "I know it's still painful, L. Auron was, much like you, irreplaceable." He paused there, trying to think of how to say what he wanted to without further upsetting the younger man. "If you feel you should, L, you're welcome to stay in the infirmary."

L didn't look at him. He kept his eyes firmly locked on his hands, which he'd clasped tightly in his lap once the bandages were in place. Finally, he shook his head. "I'm alright." He breathed, his voice weak. "I'll be alright."

"You're sure?"

"Yes." L sounded more confident then. He'd looked into Quillsh's eyes when he'd answered, which gave the older man more faith that the younger knew his own limits.

"Alright." Quillsh said honestly. In truth, he was still concerned, but he decided not to say anything more about it. This wasn't the first time L had worried him like this.

After Auron's suicide, Beyond had started to hang around L even more so than before. Not long after that, Quillsh began to notice strange scratches on L's arms. At first, he'd thought he was fighting with Beyond, but after the other boy disappeared, the scratches and scars only got worse. L finally appeared at Quillsh's door late one night, in tears, clutching his arm against him. That was when it all made sense to Quillsh. It was a moment when all the puzzle pieces that weren't supposed to exist snapped together.

L's injuries were self-inflicted.

With the help of a psychologist and close friend, he'd pulled through. He'd been doing very well the last two years. He never showed it if he was stressed or anxious. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing.

"Thank you, Watari." L said softly from the couch. He'd calmed down and had composed himself enough to speak without crying during the time Quillsh was lost in thought. Standing, although a bit shakily, he cocked his head to his left shoulder in that adorably childish way, waiting.

Quillsh smiled. "No trouble." He placed an arm around L's shoulders, hugging him against his side. Knowing how uncomfortable physical contact made the younger man, he wasn't surprised when L didn't return the embrace. Stepping away, he said, "Good night, L."

The raven pulled his uninjured hand through his hair, clearly a bit embarrassed. "Good night, Watari." He said, a note of gratitude clear in his voice even then.

L slipped through the office door into the hallway, making his way back to his own room and leaving Quillsh alone in his office. The man paced the floor, deep in thought. His hand still throbbed where L's nails had punctured the skin. He'd check the man's arms tomorrow to be sure that the gashes weren't in danger of becoming infected.

Sometimes L truly worried him.

**********************************

It was dark. The distant sound of rain signaled the approaching storm. The raven clutched his thin hands to his chest, the way he had when he was a child. The frigid air felt as though it was burning his throat as he struggled to breathe. The air suddenly disappeared around him, causing him to gasp as though he'd been struck. The concrete walls of the stairwell were stained in a dark colour that he couldn't quite see.

A sudden flash of lightening illuminated the pitch dark landing where he stood, revealing the deep red that ran slowly down the walls. In that split second, he saw it…crawling up the stairs on all fours like an animal. It's pale, skeletal hands, dripping with blood, clawed at the concrete as it drug itself forward, only barely using it's legs to push itself toward him. Soft, unnatural scraping sounds met L's ears.

His breath began to hitch in his chest and he whirled around, tugging at the metal handle of the heavy iron door. Locked. Bolted from the outside, he guessed. L, slowly starting to panic, turned back toward the stairs, pressing himself against the door as hard as he could in a vain attempt to put as much distance as possible between him and the creature on the stairs.

It was closer now, it's high, hissing breath horribly loud in the confined space. L couldn't move. Fear burned through his veins like fire. There was no where for him to run. Even if he could get through the door behind him, it only led onto the roof and there was no way he could survive a fall from this height. He was trapped.

Only five steps separated him and the creature. The raven felt as though he'd faint. And then he heard it…The sound that had kept him awake every night for 12 years.

That same sound.

Beyond threw his head back, laughing. That same high, shrill, barking laugh. L slid to the floor, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "No…"

"Oh, L," the younger man breathed in a sickeningly sweet voice, picking himself up onto his knees. "My perfect L. Did you really think you could escape me?"

L had never felt fear like this. His body trembled, and he felt nauseous. The sharp, metallic scent of blood hung heavily in the air. Gunmetal-grey eyes stared into bright, blood red ones as Beyond sat calmly, only a few feet from him, his white, long-sleeved shirt splattered with crimson, wild dark hair highlighted in bright red. L could only stare at him, his mirror image, and his complete opposite.

The younger raised a bone-thin hand to gently touch his lips, cocking his head to his right shoulder. A soft, sadistic smile twisted his lips, his sharp, blood-coated teeth glinting in the dim light. He jumped for him, twisting one pale hand into the front of L's shirt, pulling him forward. Beyond's harsh laughter echoed around him as he felt those sharp teeth dig into his throat, tearing his windpipe out, ripping at his vocal cords. L fought. He tried to scream, thrashing against the concrete, and then…

A strangled yelp tore from the raven's throat, which he was relieved to find still intact. L clutched the sheets around him, shivering and fighting for breath. He hadn't had a dream, no, a nightmare like that in years. It was so…real. Too real. He only released his grip on the sheets to turn on the small light on the bedside table, clicking it through to its highest setting. He could still feel the slight warmth clinging to his shirt where Beyond had grabbed him. Perhaps even worse, he could still smell the blood.

It didn't take him long to realise why. The shallow gashes on his arm had started bleeding again. Oh, well. It was almost dawn, which meant that Quillsh would be awake soon and he could get extra bandages from him. Pointless as that thought was, it served to distract him from the memory of the nightmare, if only for a moment.

Still, L's analytical mind wouldn't allow him to simply let the dream go. He was still frightened. As much as he truly hated to admit it, he was scared of the younger man.

L Lawliet was frightened of Beyond Birthday.


	4. Symphony

This is a very short chapter by comparison, that's why I got it done so quick. I thought about making it longer but I wasn't sure how and I didn't want it to get boring. I'm not sure where the idea for this one came from, but it's really depressing if you like Near.

Everyone knows I don't own anything.

**IV-Symphony**

The steady beeping of the heart monitors was becoming an all too familiar sound. Near shifted uncomfortably in his hospital bed, careful not to disturb the I.V. line in the back of his hand. Everything always seemed so strange, so invasive, no matter how many times he went through it. It just seemed so…final.

The blinding lights above him gave Near's white-blonde hair an eerie blue tinge. The effect made him seem even paler than usual as he pulled the thin sheets closer around him, resting his back against the pillows. Raising a hand to shield his eyes, he heard a soft, almost inaudible click, letting him know the large wooden door had swung shut.

"Hello, L." the boy sighed, lowering his arm to look at the young man leaning against the far wall. L shifted uncomfortably, clutching a thin jacket in his hands. He seemed nervous. Hospitals always had that effect on him.

"No news?" he asked.

"Nothing yet. From the tests they've run so far, nothing seems to have changed." Near began to cough, sitting up and bringing his knees to his chest in an attempt to regain his composure. It was embarrassing to be seen like this, especially by L. Near didn't honestly care much for the older man, but he put up with L's constant mothering because he sensed that he needed the distraction. While he still wasn't sure why, it was clear that Near was fulfilling some emotional need for the raven.

"You'll be back soon, then?" L asked once Near had stopped coughing. Even though he hadn't bothered to ask if the boy was alright, he still sounded for all the world like a concerned parent.

"I should be." Near answered. He voice was slightly rough from the coughing fit. "They told me I could come back in a few hours." L nodded, but kept his eyes on the floor. For the longest time neither of them spoke. The silence was, as always, uncomfortable between them. L never knew quite what to say to Near in situations like these. 'I'm sorry' seemed too trite, too generic.

Near finally spoke, "No one else knows, right? He doesn't know?"

"No one but Watari and myself." L answered, trying to sound reassuring. Near looked so frail hooked up to all those monitors. He looked like a doll, a toy. It forced L to remember the boy's age. If he hadn't known Near better, he would've sworn there was an ever-present hint of apprehension in almost everything he did over these last few weeks.

"They're not sure how much longer I have." The almost harshly direct statement changed the conversation to something entirely different. The switch was so sudden that it took L a moment to catch up.

L wasn't sure how to respond, as was often the case. "I…didn't think they'd told you." He said. While it was clear he knew it wasn't the best thing he could have said, he also knew that Near didn't expect anything less than the truth from him. Still, it seemed almost cruel to say that to someone so young. L held his jacket a little closer. "They don't know anything?"

"No." A short, but very effective answer. The boy stayed silent after that, leaving L to stand by the door, wondering if he should try to continue the conversation or not. Eventually, he decided against it and slipped back through the door, feeling strangely uncomfortable, as if he'd said something he shouldn't have. Or, maybe, because he hadn't really said anything at all.

**********************************

"Are you alright?"

"You should be asking him that."

Quillsh sighed softly, watching the man before him with a tinge of regret. Maybe letting him see Near like this wasn't the best idea. "L, I don't know what you want me to say." He admitted.

L didn't respond. He kept his gaze fixed on the impossibly white linoleum under his tennis shoes. The two stood in the hallway just outside Near's room. Quillsh had kept his voice low for that reason. He wondered if L's unwillingness to answer him was not so much because of the situation, but simply because of their surroundings. Sometimes, the younger man's paranoia could get very annoying.

Finally, L stepped away from the corner he'd crammed himself into. "Let's go back." He said quietly. His voice sounded distant, as though he were distracted.

As Quillsh led the raven across the parking lot to their car, his brain finally registered what he had heard in L's voice when he'd spoken to the boy. It was fear. The man spoke like a parent visiting their child. And could he really blame him? L saw Near in the same way that Quillsh saw L, as a son. The older man had never really stopped to think about what he would do if he were in L's position and L was in Near's.

Now he understood why L didn't speak to the boy much at home. How do you talk to a dying child?

Well, that was depressing. And it'll get worse. The next chapter might take a little longer and I'm not quite sure what will happen after that.

Next: Chapter 5--Schizoaffective


	5. Schizoaffective

A/N-I'm not sure how to feel about this chapter. Beyond is clearly insane, but I kinda wonder if he's not quite insane enough. I mean, I'm not used to writing 'psychos' and he's not even really in this chapter a lot. It's mainly the two psychiatrists. Oh well. I'll figure out where I'm going with this eventually.

**V-Schizoaffective**

A deafening scream echoed through the hallway. The young man, dressed in a white, long-sleeved shirt and tattered blue jeans, clawed at the walls of his room, breaking his nails against the sheetrock and leaving long scratches in the classic 'hospital-white' paint.

"I just…I don't know what to do with him." The staff psychiatrist, Dr. Kyne, paced the hardwood floor of his office, blue eyes fixed on the monitor. He was an older man, in his mid-to-late 40s, with a large moustache and a sizable stomach under a white dress shirt that, at the moment, was stained with ketchup and some manner of hot dog grease. The shirt and tan dress pants he wore were largely covered by his doctor's jacket, which looked about a size too small for him. He pulled a hand through what remained of his hair. "He won't calm down, and half of the nursing staff is afraid to go near him. I still think you're wrong on this one. I still think he's a paranoid schizophrenic. I mean, listen to that."

Kyne swept an arm toward his office door, nearly hopping from one foot to the other in something similar to desperation. The shrieks and snarls floated through the closed door from the younger man's room, several hallways away.

"No," said the woman sitting on the opposite side of the room from the flailing psychiatrist. Her eyes were locked on the file that lay open in her lap. "In schizophrenia the mood episodes he's shown are either absent, or at least less prominent than with schizoaffective disorder. Plus, his cognitive deficits all point to schizoaffective. Impulse control, especially. He can't focus on anything, he's clearly anxious and he doesn't sleep."

"He doesn't sleep because he won't stop screaming." Kyne sounded like an overly-tired parent with a fussy toddler. "And I can't give him anything because he's already on Olanzapine, Quetiapine, Valproate semisodium, and Lamictal, none of which seem to have any effect at all!" Kyne hurled the file folder he'd been holding to the floor, then spun around to scream at the monitor as though the other man could hear him. Kyne stopped yelling, but held his hands up in a classic 'I'm going to kill you' pose before he realised just how pointless the gesture really was. He was frustrated, there was no getting around it. He had absolutely no idea what to do with the man on the monitor, who was still clawing at the walls and screaming at the top of his lungs.

The younger woman sitting in the overstuffed chair across the room closed her case file and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress. "Let me go and talk to him." She said. It wasn't a request.

Kyne laughed as though it were a joke. "I won't question your abilities, Dr. Anderson," he said, picking up the scattered papers and stuffing them back into the folder, "but even I don't know what to do here. I've been trying to figure him out for a year, and I've gotten nowhere. His symptoms seem to change over-night. He's bi-polar one day and catatonic for most of the next. "

"All schizoaffective symptoms." Said Anderson.

Kyne spun around and barked through his mustache, "I'm aware of that. I'm just not so sure that treating it as a separate disorder is such a good idea. Having to deal with a schizophrenic is bad enough, but putting mood disorder symptoms on top of it is just too much."

"His delusions seem to be limited to the visual. They've never reported auditory hallucinations with him." Anderson had focused on the file she held again and was completely ignoring the man.

"Yes." Kyne said impatiently. "But they're still delusions. If he has a mood disorder on top of that, it doesn't mean it's a whole new disorder. Why do you kids insist on saying it's something else entirely?"

"Well, maybe I can figure that out." Anderson said simply. "Let me talk to him."

"No." Kyne said firmly, turning to her. "You've read my reports. You know how dangerous he is. You've said yourself that his impulse control is an issue. He'd sooner tear your throat out than look at you."

"Well, you're not getting anything done just sitting in here." She answered, crossing the room to the door, heels clicking smartly against the hardwood.

"Doctor!" Kyne barked after her. She slammed the heavy office door in his face and started down the main hall toward the room with the bolted iron door, four corridors down. The loud screams had stopped for the moment, replaced by an eerie silence. Pulling the heavy key ring out of her pocket, she started to unlock the door.

**********************************

The raven sat in far the corner of the small room, pressing his back into the wall as hard as he could without actually hurting himself. He'd somehow managed to cram himself into the corner next to the army cot they'd given him to sleep on. His arms were wrapped around his knees and he was staring blankly at the line where the wall met the floor.

The new person stood by the door, watching him. After a moment, he looked up at her, brushing the thin, pale hand that was, up till then, pressed against his lips through his tousled black hair. He was young, she realised, 25 at the oldest. There were dark shadows under his eyes, as through he'd slept in mascara, or heavy eyeliner. The way he was crouching she couldn't be sure of his height, but guessed him at roughly 5'11", which would make him almost dangerously underweight. Now she knew why Dr. Matthews had thrown such a fit about him not eating.

"Hello, Beyond." She said, knowing it was the only name he would answer to. That, in and of itself was listed as a delusion. She'd heard of patients with Multiple Personality Disorder using different, and often generic, names for different personalities. The name 'Beyond' swung to the opposite extreme. It wasn't a human's name at all.

He stared at her for a moment, eyes wide. "Maria Anderson." He said, as though he were reading. His gaze was fixed somewhere over her head. She must have looked confused because he raised a hand to point to the air above her. She noticed then that he was trembling faintly. "It's right there." He said, and laughed a bit. It was a strained, uneasy sound. The words were faintly slurred, making him sound slightly drunk.

"So you can see it?" she asked in the classic psychiatrist's tone. Honestly, she was a bit impressed that he knew her name at all. Though, in all fairness, he could have heard it in passing any time over the last year. Still, if that was the case, it was strange that he knew that name was hers when they'd never met before. Moving to sit on the edge of the cot farthest from the man huddled in the corner, she continued, "My name? What does it look like?"

He had moved as far away from her as the wall behind him would allow. He paused for a second, then whimpered as though he were in pain. "No, no." He pulled his knees in closer to his chest, shaking his head and laughing again. The movement was quick, snapped. It was less a shake and more a sharp toss, just once, to each side.

"What is it?" Maria asked, leaning forward and speaking with a trained patience.

"I don't like what happens when the numbers run out." The man's voice was only barely above a whisper, as if he didn't want to say it too loudly. His eyes flashed around the small room as though he was looking for something, or rather, someone he fully expected to see.

"The numbers?" She asked. What was he talking about? "What numbers?" He shook his head again, crossing his arms and pushing his back against the wall.

"Beyond," Maria tried again. "What happens when the numbers run out?"

Again that jerky head shake. The raven made a sound low in his throat somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. He sounded like a wounded dog. As he started to tap his long fingers against his knees, the bone-thin digits made a soft clicking noise on his kneecaps. He stared at the woman's hands, envisioning the labyrinth of veins just under the skin.

"It's alright." Maria told him. "I won't force you to talk if you don't want to." Had it been anyone else, she might have reached out to touch them then, but something about this man made her nervous. She knew there was nothing else she could get out of him, so she stood and watched him for a moment before making her way to the door.

She wasn't sure what to think now. The only hallucinations he had were visual and the 'speech disorganisation' listed in his file was really only a slight slur. It wasn't nearly severe enough to substantially impair communication.

Once the last bolt was in place across the front of the door, Maria fished in her jacket pocket for her cell phone. She had to leave soon anyway so rather than get stuck in the man's office again, she quickly dialed Kyne's number. "Kyne."

"What in hell where you thinking?! You were easily within arms reach when you stood up! Are you insane?!"

"Relax, Kyne. Don't have a heart attack on me." She joked easily, even though she was trembling slightly with relief at being out of that room. She didn't want to ruin the tough-girl image she'd always given Kyne. "I don't think he's as dangerous as you think he is."

"Yeah?" Kyne barked. "When the police brought him in he was covered in blood, and they found bits of human flesh in his teeth! Tell me he's not dangerous!"

Maria stopped mid-stride. A cold rush of real fear hit her full force. A cannibal? She'd been locked in a room with a cannibal? No. No, that wasn't possible. There was no way that that man who could hardly force himself to answer her could do something like that, insane or not. He seemed too meek, too scared of anyone he wasn't already completely used to. But he still frightened her.

Kyne continued his tirade, but Maria heard none of it. It was embarrassing for a psychiatrist to be afraid of a patient. But she was. It explained how nervous she always felt around him, why she always felt like she was being watched whenever he was in the room. Then why had she gone to talk with him when he made her so uncomfortable?

Maybe she liked him.

She stopped. Now that just didn't make any sense, she told herself. Liking a 'bad boy' was one thing, but she seriously doubted that the title covered serial killers. Even if it did, the man was psychotic. Why on earth would she think she liked him?

Because he was different.

Now that she could believe. He was fascinating. Even the great Dr. Kyne had called him that, and next to nothing impressed that man. In the short time Kyne had spent with Beyond, he'd managed to confirm that he had no idea what was wrong him. But Kyne spent an hour a day on his case, maybe. If she spent more time around the man, she just might catch something Kyne had missed. Maybe she'd offer to help the nursing staff move him back to his room later that week.

**********************************

Alone in the room again, a soft smile touched the raven's lips. They had absolutely no idea. They'd given him the pills, they'd sat and talked with him, even went so far as to put straps around his wrists and ankles when he slept. Or, rather, when they thought he should sleep. They didn't treat him any differently than the others.

'Guess I'm a better actor than I thought.' He almost laughed at that, but he knew better. That doctor was watching from his office. Granted, seeing the man laughing at apparently nothing probably wouldn't seem the least bit strange to that fat idiot. Especially after Beyond had nearly lost his voice from screaming at the top of his lungs at all hours of the night. All he had to do was keep the act going just a little while longer and he could get out of here. In a few days they would move him to a different room. That's when things would get fun. A few more days and he could see his dearest Lawliet again. Just a few more days.

There was only one problem. That straitjacket they always forced him into whenever they moved him. The heavy canvas material it was made from along with the uncomfortably tight fit of the thing made it nearly impossible to get out of. He'd have to figure a way around that or he'd have to scrap the whole plan, and he just couldn't do that. He'd worked too hard.

And that woman, Maria Anderson. She could be a problem too. If she hung around too much, she might just have to disappear.

A/N-Hope I didn't butcher the definition of 'schizoaffective'. (Please don't eat me, pepper!) As for the next chapter, I can only give you this…

Next: Chapter 6--Perfect


	6. Perfect

A/N-As you can tell, this was written fairly fast because I have no social life. Oh, and YagamiNeko, don't worry too much about Near right now. This thing is slated to run for twenty-eight chapters, more if I need it to, so I'll clear things up before it's all over.

**VI-Perfect**

L pulled his knees up to his chest, mimicking the man sitting next to him on the concrete bench in the garden. They looked like twins. The only notable differences were their hair and eyes. The one with the scars had red eyes.

"I just don't understand it." L admitted. He flinched, realising he'd spoken a bit more harshly than he'd really meant to. The other didn't seem to notice.

"We could've avoided all this if you'd just left me alone." He said softly, rapping his long fingers against his jean-covered knees.

"Left you to bleed to death?" L asked in disbelief.

"I was always careful!" Beyond snapped, shifting his gaze to look at L. He didn't say what he wanted to, that it wasn't his fault. That 'he' had told him to do it. Just like he was telling him that there was no way someone as perfect as L would want anything to do with him if he knew.

The older man didn't move for a long moment. Something about those blood-red eyes always made him shiver. His gaze fell to the four long scars running up the side of Beyond's neck, curling almost gracefully against his jaw line. The scars ran up from his back, just past his left shoulder blade, made by the man's fingernails during one of his 'fits'.

"Was _that_ you being careful?" L watched as Beyond raised a bone-thin hand to touch the scars. Rather than try to hide them, as most people would do, the younger man cocked his head to his right shoulder, away from L. This gave the raven a clear view of the dark red lines etched into the other's pale skin.

"It's my life." The response was spoken softly, calmly. Beyond's voice was just slightly breathy, as though the man's thoughts were elsewhere.

L shook his head. There was much more to that statement than most would catch at first. L, of course, picked up on all of the meanings right away. He sighed, wondering how he was going to phrase what he wanted to say. Eventually, he settled on, "I really don't want them to have to send you somewhere, B."

"Because you're afraid it would hurt me?" The younger man laughed, though it was much more subdued than usual. His normal high-pitched bark was softer, a bit lower, and far less irritating. "I don't mean to tell you what you already know, but…" he looked away then, staring at the concrete below them. "You've seen what I do to myself. How could you, or they, possibly put me in any more pain then I'm already in?"

L couldn't answer. What could he possibly say to that? It wasn't long before Beyond spoke again, softly, almost to himself. "I'll never understand you. You're so perfect, L."

Perfect. It was a strange thing to say. L turned to look at him, tilting his head like a dog. Beyond unfolded his long legs, leaning back with his weight on his left arm. He cocked his head at L, giggling softly, like a child with a secret. With a girlish kick of his legs, he leaned over, giving L a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Still speechless, L watched Beyond leap gracefully down from the bench they had both perched on. The younger man flashed him a heart-melting smile, showing long, slightly pointed canine teeth. They looked like fangs, L thought as he watched the man skip, honestly skip, away down the path, singing in a high, child-like voice, "They're coming to take me away, ha ha, They're coming to take me away…"

**********************************

L paced the floor of the solarium with his hands in his pockets. The setting sun painted the sky in orange and red bright enough to be seen clearly through the heavily tinted glass of the 12-foot high windows. He hadn't thought about that day in the garden in years. L had only been 13 years old at the time. He'd assumed that the 12-year-old Beyond had just been playing with him. He was so young, he couldn't have possibly meant anything by that kiss. Now he was wondering if he might have been wrong.

L's schooling included several courses in psychology, which meant that he could spot a red flag a mile away. Everything he'd seen from Beyond from the first time they'd met pointed to strong obsessive tendencies and a possible stalker mentality. Within a few months of knowing the man, he'd upgraded it to an Obsessive Love.

All the signs were there. Within a few minutes of meeting L, Beyond had seemed very attached to the older man. He hung around him constantly, eventually starting to mimic the way L spoke and moved. He would often sit in that same odd crouch that L was nearly famous for, pulling his knees against his chest and waiting for him in the garden or in the hallway after his classes were finished.

Often, when L met one of the new children, Beyond would want to be there. The first time, the younger man had simply stood at L's side, holding on to his arm with a bone-crushing grip. Eventually, though, he'd started to place himself forward a bit, almost between L and the new child.

L hadn't really noticed the subtle changes as anything to be concerned about. He'd assumed that Beyond simply didn't like to be left alone and was only mimicking him as part of a phase. However, that wasn't the case. L started to worry a bit when the younger man began to dress like him, even going so far as to stop sleeping unless it was absolutely necessary. It wasn't long after that that he stopped trying to tame his hair down when he woke up in the morning.

Quillsh had told him again and again not to worry over the boy. He suspected it was only a phase and Beyond would fall out of the habit soon enough. Deep down, the Englishman still regretted that. When L found Auron that day, the man had pulled L from the room and into the hallway, wrapping the trembling boy up in his arms. _"I was wrong." _He told him._ "I was wrong."_

He _was_ wrong. _L_ was wrong. But he couldn't prove anything. Auron's death was ruled a suicide, meaning that Beyond was completely safe, and he knew it. But why? It just didn't make sense. Auron was no threat to him, so it made absolutely no sense for Beyond to kill him.

Yes, it did. Because it got L's attention.

That's right. L had forgotten it until now, but one of the dangers of real Obsessive Love was that the lover would do anything in their power to get the attention of the beloved. It all fit. But could Beyond, at only 12 years old, really convince someone to kill themselves just to get his attention? L wasn't sure.

A/N-A little bit of history and insight for you. I think the next chapter should be relatively short and about Mello. Then it goes back to Beyond. (I'm actually starting to like reviews now. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 7--Stages


	7. Stages

A/N-For fans of this conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck, here you go. This is the fastest I've ever updated this thing (because, again, no social life), but don't expect that to continue. As the story goes along and the chapters get darker, I'll probably have to slow down a bit to be sure I get it right. These were pretty short chapters, so I wrote them really quick. Oh, and Mello's a bit religious in this chapter. Don't take offense if you're not. I hate people that do that.

**VII-Stages**

Mello paced his room in the half-light offered by the streetlight outside the window, repeating to himself over and over,

"I believe in God, the Father almighty,  
Creator of heaven and earth,  
and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord.  
He was conceived by the Holy Spirit,  
and born of the Virgin Mary.  
He suffered under Pontius Pilate,  
was crucified, died and was buried.  
He descended into hell.  
On the third day He rose again.  
He ascended into heaven,  
and is seated at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.  
He will come again to judge the living and the dead.  
I believe in the Holy Spirit,  
the Holy Catholic Church,  
the communion of saints,  
the forgiveness of sins,  
the resurrection of the body,  
and life everlasting."

At times like this, his faith was the only thing that kept him sane. He was so tired. His arms were still burning, but at least the bruises that coloured his skin would heal without scaring. Everything…Everything hurt. He always hated this part. He was completely exhausted, but he knew there was no way he'd be able to sleep. Why did he even bother to do this to himself anymore? It had stopped helping to relieve his panic, and the subsequent pressure in his chest, weeks ago.

Maybe it had something to do with this room. Mello stopped mid-stride. This room. This room belonged to Beyond. L had told him a bit about him, but it was nothing that he didn't already know. The man was a complete psycho.

Mello had found out by digging through files during his free time that Beyond's IQ actually matched L's at 198. Of course, no one could ever match L. Ever.

Mello pulled a hand through his thick, brass-blonde hair. He didn't know what he was even doing here anymore. He was so sick of always being second to Near, but no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't beat him. He was always 'second-best'. It was like someone had put his life on pause. He felt like he was always running and getting nowhere. Oh well. The urge to scratch or cut himself had been diminished by the therapy and the replacement techniques he'd learned, but it was still there in times of high stress.

While it wasn't nearly as painful as making himself bleed, the bruises were arguably more annoying. The discomfort lasted longer than it ever did when he used to cut, but the end result was far less jarring and unhealthy. With L watching him like a hawk these past few weeks, he found himself finding alternatives to self-injury out of a desire to avoid disappointing the man. However, most of that went out the window as soon as he stepped into his room.

He never felt safe there. It was just…wrong. It felt like he was being constantly watched. Like there was something there that didn't want to let him leave each morning, and waited impatiently for him to return every night. It was…unnerving, to say the least. He never slept well any more and he found himself staying out later and later, occasionally spending an entire night in the library or the solarium, anything at all to avoid stepping foot in his room.

"Damn." Mello snarled under his breath. He wasn't panicking anymore, but he was still a four day drive and a boat trip from calm. It was just too claustrophobic in here. The air felt heavy and thick in his throat, nearly making him choke and bringing him back to the edge of the panic attack he'd gotten out of only a few hours earlier. Before it started up again, Mello snarled, sounding rather like a feral dog, and headed for the door. It looked like he'd be spending another night holed up in the library waiting for the sun to rise when, in reality, he wanted nothing more than to simply be able to sleep.

Maybe he would be able to think a little clearer in the morning.

A/N- Beyond just has bad energy, doesn't he? (I'm actually starting to like reviews now. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 8—The Birthday Massacre


	8. The Birthday Massacre

A/N-For fans of this conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck, here you go. I don't own either of the songs, and have you ever realised how difficult it is to make singing creepy?

**VIII-The Birthday Massacre**

Three fifteen. 3:15.

It was a ridiculous time for anyone to be awake, much less awake and fighting their way out of a straitjacket. Tugging his arms out of the sleeves had been the worse part. He'd wrenched his already misaligned shoulders several times trying to pull the thing over his head.

The woman, Maria Anderson, was the only staff member in the psychiatric wing at this time of night. And there was a very good reason for that. Her throat had been cleanly sliced open. Her deep purple pant suit was stained a dark red around the collar and her body, slumped against the wall in the far corner, was still twitching slightly.

Beyond's mind had been on overdrive for the past day and a half, the effect of which was something similar to drinking nothing but caffeine for several weeks straight. It made him jumpy and caused him to shake even more than usual.

Slightly jittery, he paced his room, back and forth, back and forth. His arms ached, and his throat was dry, making him swallow often. The polished concrete floor under his bare feet was slick with the blood that ran slowly across the floor and dripped from his skeletal fingers. This time, none of the blood was his.

The small CD player Anderson had been carrying was still playing. The sound was faint, but clear enough that Beyond stopped for a moment to listen, cocking his head.

Porcelain and the Tramps, he guessed. It sounded familiar. It was almost funny. He never would have thought that a straight-laced psychiatrist would listen to something that heavy. At times like these, he realised how much he missed music. Flexing his aching arms to get the blood flow back to his fingers, he found himself singing along softly,

"Cross me once and you'll see it's like a match to gasoline, gasoline…

'Cause I'm highly flammable, a caged up animal, I will go off on you.

You better take it back, I'm about to snap, I will go off on you."

He began to laugh as he picked up the straitjacket the nursing staff had forced him into several hours earlier, and tossed it into the air. The heavy canvas made a loud _crack _sound as it struck the floor near the opposite wall. "Not this time!" Beyond laughed, jumping up and down on a relatively clean patch of floor. "Not this time. It's not comfortable." He whined, stretching his arms over his head. His tousled hair hung in his face, but he made no move to brush it back. Lowering his arms, he cocked his head at the body on the floor.

'Poor thing', he thought. If she hadn't wanted to stay and talk, it probably wouldn't have been so painful. He couldn't be sure, though. He couldn't be sure of what would have happened if she'd left with the rest of the staff. He hadn't told her what happened when the numbers ran out because he'd known she wouldn't like it.

Beyond placed his hands on his hips, sighing impatiently. "Where is he?" he hissed. His eyes flashed around the room. "I thought he would've figured it out by now." He huffed, sounding like a bratty teenager. Then, lifting his voice in a slightly sing-song tone, he said, "Hey, Lawliet. Where are you? You're late." He skipped over to the crumpled canvas of his straitjacket, singing, high and child-like,

"_Careful what you do_

_Cause God is watching your every move_

_Hold my hand in the dark street_

_For if you do I know that I'll be safe."_

Picking up the canvas, he tossed it up again, this time catching it and twirling it over his head. A soft smirk played across his lips as his eyes fell to the woman slouched in the corner.

"_Even if I'm far away and alone_

_I can be sure that you'll find me there_

_This I know_

_You draw me close for awhile, so quiet_

_You tell me everything_

_If I forget what you say then you'll come to me and tell me again_

_Yes, you'd tell me once again."_

Tightening the last of the leather straps, Beyond sat back, balancing easily in that strange crouch and letting his hands hang loosely between his knees. Leaving Maria's body cocooned in the heavy material, he jumped up to his feet and slipped through the open door into the empty hallway. He fastened several small silver bracelets around his wrist along with the broken scraps of metal he'd taped to his forearm earlier in the day. Linking his hands behind his back so the heavy keys wouldn't clink together and dropping his voice to a whisper, he started down the darkened hall toward the main door.

"_But what happens when I know it all_

_Then what should I do after that_

_What then?"_

********************************

The trilling of the phone jolted Quillsh out of a fitful sleep. He'd been dreaming of an old warehouse, a fire and a jar of strawberry jam. Cursing Mr. Bell, he tugged on his robe and moved into his office. The increscent ringing was already giving him a headache.

Snapping up the receiver, he said in a not-quite-unfriendly tone, "Do you realise what time it is?"

"Mr. Wammy?" the man sounded young and very frightened. Quillsh was instantly awake.

"Yes?" he answered, gentler this time.

"I-I'm very sorry to wake you, sir, but…"

"What is it?" Quillsh urged. He suddenly felt uneasy.

"Sir," the man on the other end of the line paused as though the very thought of saying what he was about to put him in danger. And that may well have been the case. Quillsh heard him take a deep breath. "He's gone."

The older man felt his heart skip a beat. He thought he knew who the man meant, but he hoped he was wrong. He hoped to God he was wrong. "Who?"

Again that pause. The next word came in a trembling, barely audible whisper. "Beyond."

A/N-The chapters are getting a little darker and it's taking me longer to get them done, so don't worry if you don't hear from me for a few days. I haven't gone away. I like this story too much to do that. (I'm actually starting to like reviews now. They might even help me write faster the further we get into this thing. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 9—House of Cards


	9. House of Cards

A/N-For fans of this conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck, here you go. We're back to L for this chapter, but the main story, (yes, I had an actual idea when I was writing this) will become clear in the next one.

And I know Misa no Uta sounds rough in English, but for this story, Beyond has lived in England all his life and probably wouldn't know the song in Japanese, even though he learned the language for L.

And thanks for the reviews! You guys are the best.

**IX-House of Cards**

The sun stained the clouds in a blinding violet, setting the trees along the walk ablaze with scarlet and gold. The early morning birds had just begun to sing, the high, trilling notes carrying easily on the still air. L noticed none of it.

The man paced Quillsh's office, a look of concern clear of his face. How in hell does someone like Beyond simply disappear from a maximum-security asylum? L had been asking that question for the last two hours and he still had no idea how he'd managed it.

"He killed one psychiatrist, three nurses, and a night watchman. The tapes from the security cameras had all been erased by the time the police arrived." Quillsh read from the hastily written report the hospital had faxed over for him.

L stared out of the panoramic window behind the man's desk. Something about this was bothering him. "There were 37 cameras. How did he have time to erase all the tapes?" he asked his own reflection. "The timeframe doesn't add up."

"They haven't sent me the tapes yet, but they say they appear to fade into static rather than abruptly cut off as you would typically see." Normally, Quillsh wouldn't have bothered to tell the younger man that. It would seem rather trivial to most people, but he had learned from years of working with L that what seemed to be nothing could often be a vital clue. Apparently, this was one of those times.

L froze. He turned to face Quillsh, saying, "A strong enough magnetic field would cause heavy static and audio distortion. The centre uses holistic remedies as well as standard medication and therapy, correct?"

Quillsh wasn't sure where L was going with this. "Yes," he answered. "If patients show a marked improvement, the psychiatrist may prescribe a natural treatment for those with paranoia, anger management problems, and anxiety."

"The head psychiatrist gave him a magnetic bracelet for his panic attacks."

It made sense in theory, except for one thing. "L, the magnetic field of a bracelet is very weak. It isn't nearly enough to disrupt those cameras." Quillsh said, shaking his head.

"But there are a lot of ways to amplify a magnetic field using other magnets and scrap metal. It's on record that he kept losing the bracelets they gave him."

"If he had enough magnets, it could work, but where did he get the scrap metal? They monitor patients like him 24/7 if they feel they could be a danger to themselves."

"Yes. During the day. The security at night isn't nearly as tight. It would be pitifully easy to sneak into the kitchen after-hours. The silverware that the staff uses is actual silver. Most of it isn't in the best condition. Easily broken." L was basing this scenario on what he would do if given the same situation. It was a surprisingly effective method in this case. Beyond had always gone to great lengths to imitate L in speech, dress, habits, and even in thought patterns.

"Are you worried?" Quillsh asked. He knew L's history with Beyond made this difficult for the man. Unnerving as it was to think of, by the time Beyond disappeared from Wammy's House, he and L were practically twins.

"He's me." L answered. "Of course I'm worried."

********************************

Three days had passed and there was still no sign of Beyond. L was understandably nervous but he hid it well, leading a small team of investigators from his laptop, as per usual. Strangely, though, this time it just didn't feel like enough.

"I should be out there." L told Quillsh early on the forth day. "I'm not doing enough."

"L, be careful." Quillsh warned him. "You know Beyond better than any of them. You have to stay and guide them. It'll give them a better chance of finding him before he hurts someone else."

"He won't." L answered. "Because he wants me. He's waiting for me to come find him." _And I know just where he'll go._

Quillsh looked honestly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Have you ever heard of Obsessive Love?" L sat down in that odd crouch on one end of the sofa. "The lover will do anything in their power to get the attention of the beloved. Auron's apparent suicide was the first attempt. This is the second. He's not in love with me, he only thinks he is. It's an obsession."

"You think he'll try this again?"

"No. I know he will. Because he has to." L paused there to take a sip from the tea cup he'd picked up from the table. He cocked his head at the cup and began adding sugar cubes. "Do you remember when I tried to test my theory? I stayed away from him for a day. He demanded to know where I was and wouldn't allow me to leave the room until I told him."

Quillsh nodded. He remembered L telling him about Beyond asking where he was all day. He hadn't really thought anything of it at the time.

"That was only stage one. The very beginning of obsessive tendencies." L said grimly. "He's in stage two now, the Anxious Phase. He'll have a need to be in constant contact with me. I doubt he'll call, he knows we'll trace it. He won't send me an email for the same reason. That only leaves him with direct, person-to-person contact."

"He'll come to you, then?" Quillsh asked. He cringed inwardly, dreading where this was going.

"Yes. But I don't intend to wait that long. If the police find him first, they'll be in more danger than they realise. The man has the brute strength that only madmen possess."

Quillsh watched as the man stood up easily from his awkward position. L crossed the room, picking up a floor-length coat that was draped over a nearby chair. "What are you going to do?" Quillsh called after him as L stepped through the door.

"I'm going to find him."

A/N-The chapters are going to get a little darker from now on, but it doesn't seem to be taking me nearly as long as I thought it would to get them done. I'm really starting to love where this story's going. (Reviews help me write faster. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

By the way, there's a very interesting meeting in the next chapter.

Next: Chapter 10—My Little Tragedy


	10. My Little Tragedy

A/N-For fans of this conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck, here you go. Very creepy chapter this time. And it only gets worse.

And thanks for all the reviews! You guys rock.

**X-My Little Tragedy**

The streetlights flickered dangerously above the rain-slicked streets. The bones of the abandoned warehouse, utterly destroyed by fire, loomed against a heavy, smog-drenched sky. L clutched his coat closer around him, huddling against the ruined building, grateful for any windbreak he could find. This part of London at night was not the safest place for a young man traveling alone.

This warehouse was the first place L had met Beyond. It only made sense that the man would return here. For a moment, L almost wished he wore a watch so he'd have something to check to keep his mind off the meeting. How long had it been since he'd seen the younger man?

L counted backwards in his head. 12 years. Beyond would be 24 years old now. It didn't seem possible that it had been that long. When the hospital called to say the boy would be staying, L hadn't expected to see him again. And now, here he was, waiting in the rain by an old warehouse for a man who may not even show up until daybreak or later.

"Hello, Lawliet." The raven flinched at the sound of his birth-given name. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't even heard the man approach. That voice had hardly changed at all. The pitch was only slightly higher than L's own making him sound very young and innocent. Turning to face him, L already knew what he'd find.

Beyond stood a few feet away from him, thin hands linked loosely behind him. He'd changed his clothes and was dressed in old blue jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt. He hadn't aged more than three years at the most. His hair matched L's in length and style, or rather lack thereof, hanging in his face and making those clear, piercing eyes seem even brighter. Even now, they were twins. The colour of the younger's shirt was the only visible difference between them.

"It's been a while." L said simply. He always felt as though he was talking to himself.

"Too long, Lawliet. Far too long." Beyond stepped forward enough to put his arms around L's shoulders, pulling him close. The younger's hair had an odd scent. It was something slightly chemical mixed with the smell of some spicy Ginger shampoo. L kept his hands in his pockets. He was never all that comfortable with hugging.

After a few moments, Beyond stepped back, but kept his hands on L's arms, twisting his fingers into the cloth of his jacket. "I missed you." He said softly. "Where were you?"

"I was watching the kids." L said, knowing the man would know what he meant. It was a generic answer, really. It was also non-threatening enough that he could use the other's reaction as a way to gauge rather he was right about the man's state of mind.

"A-alright." Beyond tightened his grip on L's jacket with an uneasy laugh. "Do you, ah…Do you really still need to watch them? I mean, they've got each other, right? Yeah? You don't really need to be there all day, right?" The words were a little fast and spoken with that familiar slur, though it was barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't sure what to listen for.

L knew right then how the rest of the conversation would go. "I guess I don't really need to." He said a little hesitantly. "But Mello's been having trouble lately and I don't like to leave him alone."

"Mello?" Beyond cocked his head, thinking back to the children he knew when he lived at Wammy's House. "The blonde kid." He finally said. It wasn't a question, but L answered anyway.

"Yes. He hasn't been doing so well." He sighed. He hoped that Beyond wasn't as far into the second phase as he originally thought. If he was, this conversation could get very dangerous.

The younger man released the death grip he had on L's jacket, stepping back so that they were roughly arm's length from one another. He hadn't stood still the entire time they had been talking. The nervous, repetitive movements were slightly worse when he spoke. Now, he was tapping the long fingers of his left hand against his jeans and slightly bouncing one leg. "I see." He breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, made nearly inaudible by the heavy rain.

"B." L tried to step forward to place a hand on the younger raven's arm, but Beyond fell back a step and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

"So, he-he's a friend?" The tone of the man's voice was more than enough to make L nervous. More than that Beyond was breathing slightly harder, which meant that he was getting worked up and upset over something that never even happened. There was a strong undercurrent of anger to the question. The last thing L wanted to do was fight, mainly because he wasn't sure he could win against 'himself'.

"He's a friend." L told him, hoping that the younger man would simply believe him without any further questions.

"That's all?"

"That's all." L repeated.

Beyond laughed softly. It was a rough, unpleasant sound that still held enough of that high-pitched bark to make L flinch. "Alright." He said, more to himself than to L. "Alright."

L resisted the urge to shake his head. It was all there. The feelings of mistrust, the baseless thoughts of him leaving a non-existent relationship in favour of someone else, getting jealous of the man's contact with other people. On top of all that, L saw traces of paranoid schizophrenia in his slightly rushed speech and clipped, repetitive movements. This could become very dangerous.

"You need to be careful." L said, hoping the abrupt change would be enough to steer the conversation away from himself. "The investigation team is getting close."

Beyond looked up at him from under his tousled hair. It looked a little darker than L remembered. He saw the man's red-tinged eyes flash as a thousand scenarios ran through his mind at once. "Sounds like you're leaving."

_Damn it_. Well, there was no getting around it now. "I have to go back, B."

"You can't leave." It was a statement. The man wrung his frail hands. His skin looked pale as milk against the black cloth of his shirt. "I-I don't know what I'd do if you left me again."

_Again?_ L sighed. Maybe he could just walk away. Maybe it wasn't quite as bad as he thought. "I have to go, B." he said again, risking a step backwards, towards the empty street.

The strike was so sudden L didn't have time to react. He was suddenly lying on the cold stone, looking up at the heavy, black clouds that soaked the streets with rain. He was unable to break his fall and must have hit his head on the broken concrete that was once the foundation of the warehouse. The sudden pain made his vision blur and fade around the edges. Beyond crouched by him, cradling his arm against his chest. He had scraped his knuckles on L's teeth when he'd caught him with the back of his left hand. The strike had enough force to knock the older man to the ground.

Beyond sat over him for a moment, his head on one side, watching as he slowly lost consciousness. "I told you," he panted. "I told you not to leave me again."

A/N-The chapters are going to get a little darker from now on, but it doesn't seem to be taking me nearly as long as I thought it would to get them done. I'm really starting to love where this story's going. (Reviews help me write faster. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 11-Dealings


	11. Dealings

A/N-For fans of this conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck, here you go. It's Friday! I have no earthly idea how I got this done so quickly, but here it is.

Thanks for all the reviews! I feel loved.

**XI-Dealings**

"It's been too long. He should be back by now." Quillsh snapped his cell phone shut as he paced his office, eyes fixed on the Grandfather clock in the far corner.

"Didn't he say where he was going at all?" Mello asked from the couch, anxiety making his German accent much heavier. He toyed with the wrapper of his fifth chocolate bar, saying a short prayer in his head.

"No," Quillsh answered, a hint of worry in his voice. "He didn't tell me anything."

Matt glanced sideways at Mello. "I'm sure he's fine." He said, trying to keep the blonde calm. This was one of the few times that Matt's attention wasn't focused on some video game. Mello was a bit surprised at how attentive the redhead was. He reassured Quillsh as well, making sure the man knew there was nothing to be concerned about.

Quillsh scanned the room, apparently only just realizing that one member of their group was missing. "Where is Near?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him all day." Matt answered, pulling Mello close with an arm around his shoulders. As violent as the blonde could be, he was very fragile emotionally, especially when it came to people he considered family. He rubbed Mello's arm through the boy's jacket, the leather creaking softly under his fingers.

Near stayed in his room during the day to avoid the sunlight. The boy burned so easily that even walking down the street was very dangerous. Quillsh could close the heavy curtains that hung on either side of each window if the boy wanted to move around, but left them open otherwise to avoid the unnecessarily painful power bill. None of the other children knew that Near was an albino. As gifted as these children were, they were still children.

"Matt," Quillsh asked, "will you go fetch Near for me, please?" The man was well aware of the friction between Near and Mello. He had no desire to make it worse.

Matt understood. He nodded, squeezing Mello's arm just a little too hard, and slipping out of the office. Mello stared after him, wrapping his arms around himself and feeling very exposed. For whatever reason, he always felt safe when Matt was around. He might even feel safe in his own room if Matt was there.

Mello shook his head. Why on earth did he just think that? Luckily, Quillsh didn't seem to notice the slight pink tinge in the blonde's cheeks.

********************************

Matt returned ten minutes later, Near keeping several paces behind him. He found Mello leaning against the wall just to the right of the door, nipping at a chocolate bar. The blonde had looked up when he heard the solid thudding of the redhead's boots, loud even in the carpeted hallway. Then, his eyes fell to Near.

The boy looked back at him, large eyes steady and unblinking. Mello bit the inside of his lower lip until he almost drew blood. _Just go away, you little freak._

Thankfully, Matt broke the uncomfortable silence. "Mels?" he said, stepping up next to Mello. "Why are you out here?"

The blonde wasn't used to being called 'Mels' by anyone. It was sort of cute, but it was also clearly a pet name. He took a second to give Matt a strange look before he answered. "He wanted to speak with Near alone." He said, meaning Quillsh. "So I thought I'd wait out here for you."

Near moved past the blonde while he was still speaking, a small smile touching his lips. As he slipped through the door, Mello could have sworn he heard him laugh softly, as if he knew something the blonde didn't. Mello would have stopped him and demanded to know what was so damn funny if Matt hadn't called him.

"Mels?"

"What?"

"Nothing." Matt smiled. "I just wanted to know if I could call you Mels." He left Mello staring after him, his mouth slightly open in confusion. The redhead was laughing gently as he tugged his Nintendo DS out of his jacket pocket.

********************************

"He's been gone since yesterday." Quillsh told him. Near sat on the floor near the closed curtains, one leg pulled against his chest, watching the older man intently.

"He hasn't contacted you at all?" the boy asked.

"No. Nothing. And I can't get through to him, his cell phone has been turned off."

Near stood up, staring at the floor for a moment and twirling a loose piece oh his hair around his finger. Quillsh knew better than to interrupt the boy when he was clearly thinking. He looked up at the older man for a moment, then said, "I'll find him." It was that simple. Near saw it as a puzzle, and there was no puzzle that Near couldn't solve.

"Thank you so much, Near." Quillsh began, but Near held up a hand.

"However," he said, "I'm afraid I may need some help this time."

It took Quillsh a moment to catch up. Then he understood. Near never appeared weak and, because of that sometimes even Quillsh forgot. "Of course. What do you need?"

"Mello and Matt." Quillsh looked a bit confused, so Near elaborated, "Matt owns a car, Mello rides a motorbike. They can search the city. I can't."

Quillsh nodded. "I see. The lab is set up for you down the hall. Shall I-?"

"I will tell them. Don't worry. Mello will want to find him just as much as you do."

Near stepped through the door and Quillsh could faintly hear him telling the blonde they would be working together. He knew from the look in his eyes that Mello's inferiority complex would pose a problem if they were forced to be around one another for too long.

Still, as the door swung shut, he felt a sense of relief. Even though L wasn't safe yet, he felt much better knowing that he had three of his best students searching for his son.

A/N-The chapters are going to get pretty dark and disturbing from now on. Just warnin' ya now. (Reviews make me feel better. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 12-Watchtower


	12. Watchtower

A/N-For fans of this conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck, here you go. This is what happens when I get bored. I write. I couldn't sleep last night and this thing happened.

Thanks for all the reviews!

**XII-Watchtower**

Nothing. Absolutely nothing after 24 hours of searching every hotel, nightclub and alleyway in Winchester.

Mello fell onto the small couch in the nearly claustrophobic room dimly lit by the 12 computer screens mounted to the far wall. The eerie, bluish glow they cast across the room made the small boy seated in front of them appear even paler than usual.

The younger boy lounging on the couch watched him from under a fall of slightly windswept brass-blonde hair. He was so exhausted that he could hardly think of just how much he hated that emotionless doll.

A doll. It was a surprisingly fitting description for the boy in the chair. An emotionless doll.

The hydraulic hiss of the door pulled Mello from his thoughts. Matt staggered over and collapsed in a heap on the couch next to Mello, the impact bouncing the blonde into the air. Matt murmured and flipped around so that he was sitting, albeit slouched down like a sack of potatoes, next to Mello, who had sat up to avoid being squished.

"Long day?" the German boy asked, smiling at the exhausted redhead. Matt replied with a noise that was vaguely interrogatory without being, in any way, a word. "You look rough."

"Thanks, I love hearing that." Matt sat up straight, mainly to keep himself awake, and asked, "You didn't find anything either, huh?"

Mello shook his head. Although, tearing through the streets on his bike had been fun.

"We have no more leads." Said Near, deadpan as always. "I suggest you sleep while you have the opportunity."

No one had to tell Matt twice. He quickly disappeared through the door that divided the bedroom from the lab and most likely locked it behind him so that Near couldn't drag him back to work too easily.

Mello decided to stay up, partially to avoid sharing a bed with Matt, but mostly to show Near that he wasn't weak. Near, of course, could've cared less if the blonde had gone to sleep like his friend. If he had, it would've meant that he could've worked in peace for a few hours.

Though, to his credit, Mello wasn't nearly as obnoxious as he could've been. He simply put his headphones on, listening to some obnoxiously heavy German music that most Americans would recoil from. He was asleep within the hour. A smile tugged at the corners of Near's mouth as he gently covered the taller boy with a spare blanket. Asleep like this and completely unguarded, Near could have called him cute.

Returning to his chair, a wave of nausea hit him and he staggered. He dropped to his knees beside his chair and placed a hand over his mouth to stifle a coughing fit. Once he'd caught his breath, he felt safe to drop his hand to his lap and try to stand. Near felt his heart skip a beat as he brought his hand away from his mouth. His pale skin was stained scarlet and the heavy taste of iron coated his tongue. Behind him, Mello stirred gently in his sleep, but didn't wake.

Glancing over his shoulder, Near was relieved to see that his coughing fit hadn't woken the blonde on the couch. The longer he could keep them from worrying about him, the better. He just had to hold on until they found L. Just a little longer.

********************************

Matt stood with his back against the door. He wasn't used to being worried about someone. He'd never heard Near cough like that before. It wasn't the light, normal cough he often heard from the boy. It was heavy, low in his chest. He sounded seriously ill.

Mello was making him nervous as well. He hadn't slept at all since they learned L was missing and, from what he'd been hearing about the other man, Beyond, they'd need all the rest they could get. If he was even half as dangerous and intelligent as Quillsh, and even L, seemed to think he was, this wouldn't be easy. And if Near was as sick as he sounded, they could be in trouble.

Mello didn't seem to get on well with the boy, either. It was like his very existence annoyed him. Matt was more exhausted from keeping those two from killing each other than he was from searching all over the city all day.

Mello was very strong mentally, but he tended to make rash decisions based on spur-of-the-moment impulses. And that tended to get people into trouble.

A/N- Poor Near. Pseudo-Kira-task-force thing goin' here. Not sure how that happened. Anyway, the next chapter is just…disturbing. I went back to L and B and I managed to creep myself out. You've been warned. (Reviews make me feel better. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 13-Salvage


	13. Salvage

A/N-For fans of this conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck, here you go.

(You know what I'd like to do? Turn this into a comic book. My artist would have to be very good with drawing the characters though.)

This chapter is a little longer and… (laughs)….This thing is actually worse than I planned it to be. I mean, it's awful. And by 'awful,' I mean 'Beyond.' This might explain why he's so psycho.

Reviews mean you're awesome!

**XIII-Salvage**

The rain was still falling steadily when the raven's gunmetal-grey eyes slowly flickered open. He had a terrible headache, but otherwise, he seemed to be fine. The sky had lightened considerably and was now a dull eggshell white, allowing him to clearly see his surroundings.

He was lying on a small ledge of concrete, raised about two feet off the floor of the gutted warehouse. The roof was entirely gone, and most of the metal walls that were still standing were badly rusted and bent. Looking down, he could see what remained of the front doors between his tattered tennis shoes.

L sat up a little too quickly. The blood rushing to his head made him dizzy, forcing him to lie back down. He knew without looking that there was a bruise under his eye. The memory of the previous night came flooding back, making him flinch against the fresh pain in his cheek.

"Hello, Lawliet." L fought to suppress a shudder. He turned his head slowly. Even the slight movement caused a stabbing pain in his jaw. Beyond perched on an old crate at L's shoulder in the man's trademark crouch, facing the front of the building. He was staring up at the white sky, tapping his fingers on his knees, eyes wide and unblinking. Even L found it a bit unnerving that he could simply sit and stare up into the rain like that.

As he watched the younger man, the soft chemical scent reached him again. In the better light of day, he realised what it was: hair colouring.

"You dyed your hair." L said. His voice sounded rough and slightly scratchy.

"It's just like yours, now." Beyond answered in a sickeningly sweet voice. His eyes never left the expanse of sky above them.

"You used to be a blonde." L responded. He remembered the man's hair as a soft, bright honey-blonde colour, not the same jet-black that his was.

The younger man leaned over from the crate he was perched on. The movement caused a strange clicking sound to echo off of what remained of the walls. He placed his hands on the concrete slab next to L's arm. "I changed it." He said with a shrug and an almost girlish laugh.

He shifted to rest his head on his folded arms. L flinched as he saw that the man had scratched the letters 'B.B' into the skin above his left wrist, the red scars horribly bright against his pale skin. "I'm glad you're back, Lawliet. I missed you so much." Beyond continued. He paused there to catch hold of L's sleeve like a small child. "But please, don't ever leave me again."

There was more to that statement that was instantly obvious. Something in the tone of Beyond's voice sent a cold rush of fear through the older man's body. He looked at him out of the corner of his eye, not willing to risk turning his head again.

L fought the urge to wince at the unnatural way the man's body was twisted. There looked to be about 14 inches between the edge of the crate and the concrete ledge, and most of Beyond's weight was on his arms because of the way he was leaning.

The rain soaked shirt he wore clung to him tightly enough that L could count the artificial raven's ribs through it. He noticed something then. The man's ribcage wasn't even. When Beyond released him and returned to perching on the crate, facing forward, L could clearly see that something was off about the way he sat. His shoulders were misaligned, which was a mark of severe scoliosis. He vaguely recalled the man's stride being uneven as well when they'd met last night.

But it didn't look to be scoliosis. His spine looked too painfully twisted for that to be all that was wrong. Then it snapped together in L's mind. There were two.

L froze, his gaze fixed on Beyond and his mind kicking into overdrive. The man had two spines. They were more closely joined near his hips, separating completely not quite halfway up his back and rejoining again near his shoulders. But how in the world could that be possible?

A twin. L's heart stopped. There was supposed to be a twin.

If both the man's spinal cords functioned, then it's possible he would often get a single thought as two separate messages, not to mention the irrevocable damage to his nervous system. It explained the touches of schizophrenia that had seemed so apparent all those years ago. It was amazing that the man had survived this long, insane or not.

"Are you feeling better, Lawliet?" Beyond asked in that strangely unnerving voice.

"You mean, since you knocked me unconscious and left me out in the rain?"

The younger man jumped, and then leaned over again, touching L's arm this time. "Oh, no. No." he said softly. "No, I'd never hurt you." Beyond sounded like a child again. He nervously rapped his thin fingers against the concrete. "I'd never hurt you, Lawliet."

"B, I need to go home." L said clearly. "Watari worries if he doesn't hear from me."

L tried to sit up as he spoke, hoping that Beyond would be so caught up in listening to him that he wouldn't notice. The sharp pain in his shoulder told him he was wrong.

Beyond shoved the older man back onto the concrete, climbing off of the crate and straddling him. L clamped a hand around the other's wrist, feeling his hand close on his throat. "I see." The man snarled, red eyes flashing. "So, you care more about them than me? After everything I've done for you, you'd rather go running back to _them_ and that little German _kid _than stay with someone who actually loves you." He began to laugh then, that same rough, uneasy sound that it had been before. L could feel his fingers twitch and convulse around his throat. The pressure wasn't quite enough to strangle him, but it was enough to frighten him.

He doubted Beyond would seriously injure him, but he didn't want to risk it if he was wrong. He wrenched the man's hand from his neck, twisting just enough to throw them both off of the ledge. After a short struggle, he managed to put the younger man in an arm bar, pushing him into the floor. As much as Beyond thrashed and kicked, he couldn't free himself. Not with L sitting on him, at least.

L could clearly see the man's split spine shifting under his skin. The strange clicking noise met his ears again. With a jolt, L realised what it was. There was no cushion between the raven's spines. The vertebrae scraped together as he moved, causing a clicking, grinding sound that echoed off of the metal walls loudly enough that L could clearly hear it, even over the man's deafening screams.

"You don't love me, B." L told him in that cool, emotionless tone, trying to mask the disgust he felt in the pit of his stomach. "If you did, you wouldn't have hit me."

Beyond was screaming as though he were in pain. L wasn't hurting him, but he was restraining him, keeping his arm wrenched behind his back and preventing him from moving. The younger man snarled and kicked, but couldn't pull his arm from L's grip. "Don't leave me!" he barked. "Don't you dare leave me again! I'll kill him! I swear I'll kill him!"

L knew he meant Mello. He also knew he'd do it. And, knowing Beyond, he'd kill anyone else that he saw as a threat. L released the man's arm. What choice did he have? If Beyond truly started to fight, L would likely lose his arm, or worse.

He glanced around the warehouse, but saw nothing he could use to tie the man's hands. Much as he truly hated to admit it, he'd lost. He was trapped.

"I'll stay," L told him, "if you keep your hands off of my friends."

Beyond clutched his arm against his chest, sitting up. "Good. Good." He laughed, still slightly out of breath from screaming. "Because if you ever left again, I'd have to hurt myself, and then, I'd hurt you." He twisted his trembling hands into the front of L's shirt, clinging to him and panting, "I love you, Lawliet."

***********************************************************

A/N- OK. Wow. Psycho. And that's really all I have to say.

Oh, and I'll be on a road trip with some friends starting Wednesday, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to get the chapters uploaded as fast as I usually do. Sorry if I kind of go away for awhile, but it's not a long trip, so even if that happens I should be back soon.

(Reviews help me get back faster. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 14-Rewind


	14. Rewind

A/N-For fans of this conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck, here you go.

I know this is a short chapter and I'm sorry. That's why it's up here so fast. I'm stressed about the trip. I don't drive, so I'll be sitting in the passenger seat in L's trademark crouch for several hours (cause I'm weird like that).

Reviews mean you rock.

**XIV-Rewind**

The numbers. He could always see the numbers. He remembered counting down the hours after his mother left on her business trip, knowing that the train would crash. He also remembered how she used to beat him until he bled. He remembered watching his father leave for work and knowing he wouldn't be coming back. He also remembered the sting of the belt across his back, snapping one of his spines and causing him to lose the feeling in his left arm for several days.

But L…How would L die? How would his Lawliet die?

He didn't know. He just knew that it wouldn't be soon.

From the very first time they met, Beyond knew things about him that no one else did. L never had figured out how the man knew his real name.

This power of his, this ability to see a persons name and the date of their death was said to have come from Beyond being around death from so early on in his life. He had a brother, a twin, but he had died long before they were born and the two had become fused. His parents had always maintained that Beyond had eaten the corpse and utterly despised him for it. Often times, he was brutally beaten for no reason other than the simple fact that he was alive.

The fusion wasn't quite right though, and the second spine it left him with caused him severe pain and nervous system disorders, resulting in panic attacks and paranoia. It also split his own spinal cord between the two, causing him to receive a single thought as two separate messages. It made it very difficult to focus on anything for an extended period. Anything, that is, except for L.

From the moment that they met, Beyond had never felt as calm as he did when L was around. The man was just too perfect. He simply adored everything about him.

There was just one problem. His brother. The second spine that ran up his back didn't belong to Beyond. The thoughts that circled in his mind were, more often than not, his brother's. They often told him to hurt himself or someone else. Himself for allowing him to die in the womb, and someone else usually because they had pissed him off.

But not L. He would never hurt L.

Around the time of his 12th birthday, Beyond began to notice that the thoughts of harming people were getting steadily stronger. Eventually, he began to target one boy in particular. Auron. The boy was too happy, too smart for his own good, and far too close to L. he loved watching the boy from his window, seeing the numbers slowly tick down. After months of slowly escalating torment, the boy finally gave up and hung himself.

At first, Beyond wasn't sure how to feel, but when he saw how quickly it got L's attention, he was honestly happy. From then on, he began to plan out what he should do to get the older man to notice him. He began to mimic the way he spoke and moved. He changed the way he dressed, even the way he ate. Nothing worked as well as murder.

The second time was even better. That obnoxious little brat, J. the boy was constantly annoying him. He hung around him all day, even dressing in tight, black clothes, the way Beyond had when he first came to Wammy's House. He had even bleached his hair out to a rich, honey-blonde colour to match Beyond's. One day, in the garden, Beyond walked behind J, letting the boy lead him. They'd been walking around the grounds for some time, getting farther and farther away from the House. As they stood on the shaded path, he gently placed a hand over J's eyes and pulled him back against his chest. When the boy relaxed in his arms, Beyond pressed a knife against his throat.

L hadn't known it was him at all at first. When Beyond had come to see him in the library, the older man had asked about the deep red stains on his shirt. Beyond had pulled a jar of strawberry jam from behind his back, saying that he wasn't paying attention when he was eating earlier. L had believed him as though he hadn't noticed that he'd disappeared for the better part of the day. The entire situation was a rush, having L so close to him and knowing how dangerous it was, wondering if the man could smell the blood in his hair or see the slight tremble in his hands when he reached for him.

So that was it. If that was what it took to make his Lawliet notice him, then he'd be a murderer. He liked the idea. It would force L to chase him, to devote some of his time, of his own free will, to him. It was perfect.

But the problem then became the doctors. After the fiasco in Los Angeles, rather than send him to prison, Quillsh had him sent to some sort of hospital where they put straps on his wrists and ankles when he was supposed to sleep and put him in a heavy jacket that fastened in the back whenever they moved him from room to room.

So he started to think. And whenever he thought, his brother would be there. And whenever his brother was there, he started to scream.

The constant screaming seemed to wear on the doctor's nerves. That braying jackass gave him pills almost every day, but it never helped. He screwed it all up. He could still hear him. He was so loud.

But L would help him. L could quiet him down. L could comfort him. He just had to find him. It was all he could think of. All he had to do was find him again and everything would be alright. Everything would be perfect again.

***********************************************************

A/N- The chapters get longer from here on. I think I'm slowly hitting my stride with this one now. I'll publish Transfer before I leave, but the rest of my updates will depend on how the trip goes and how busy I am. (working holiday.)

(Reviews give you longer chapters. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 15-Transfer


	15. Transfer

A/N-Now it's a conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck with longer chapters.

My trip is tomorrow and I'm all stressed. I shouldn't be, it's a working holiday, but it's still a change in my routine.

Reviews mean…uh….

**XV-Transfer**

Beyond was finally asleep. The man was sitting on the polished concrete floor with his back pressed into the corner. L winced at the way his body was twisted. He looked like a broken doll. The older raven moved around the room, keeping his cell phone hidden in the collar of his jacket. Intelligent as the younger man was, insanity often times didn't lend itself to genius. Leaving the phone in L's possession was an amateur mistake.

Watari should receive the message soon and, hopefully, find a way to get to them without putting anyone in danger. Who knew what Beyond might do to him, or anyone else if they surprised him. The only one he was really worried about was Mello. The boy was just so impulsive sometimes. Like Beyond.

L stopped walking, glancing over his shoulder at the man huddled in the corner. They really were similar in a lot of ways. They were very intelligent, impulsive, and childish. They didn't stop once they set their minds to something. It was a dangerous quality in anyone, but even more so in someone like Beyond.

It occurred to L that he could run. However, he wasn't sure how much longer the man would sleep. If he did leave, Beyond would disappear before he returned with the police, and most likely try to track down Mello. No, it would cause too many problems if he simply left now. Just because he put him in a shoulder lock once, it didn't mean he could win in an actual fight. He just didn't possess that brute strength that madness bestows. Like it or not, it looked like he was trapped.

********************************

Quillsh re-played the message for the tenth time. He just couldn't believe it. L was alright. He had played the message for Near, who had traced the source of the call to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of London.

"Near?" asked the man pacing the floor of the lab behind him.

"Matt and Mello should be there within the hour. The police are not too far ahead of them."

"Thank you." Quillsh said, grateful for the information, even if he'd heard it a hundred times before. The man was quiet for a moment, then said, "How are you, Near?"

The boy didn't respond right away. After some thought, he answered, "It's nothing I can't handle."

"That wasn't what I asked." Near's hands stilled on the keyboard. For what felt like hours, he was silent, absently toying with a lock of his platinum-blonde hair. The next sentence was barely audible over the soft hum of electronics.

"I'm scared."

********************************

"Who did you call?" L froze. He didn't dare look back at the younger man. He wasn't sure what would happen if he did.

"What are you talking about?" L asked casually.

Beyond was suddenly beside him, snatching the phone out of his hand. He slapped him hard across the face, snarling, "I told you not to call him!"

L stepped back in an effort to regain his balance. He knew it was impossible to reason with the man. "Sorry." He breathed, placing a hand over his left cheek, which was already badly bruised from the night before.

The younger man closed the distance between them, twisting his left hand into L's hair and pulling, nearly putting the raven on his knees. "What?" he asked softly. "After everything I've done, after everyone I've hurt just to get back to you, this is how you repay me? Oh, Lawliet, I really thought you were smarter than that. Why can't you see I'm just trying to protect you?" The man's voice was lower and held no trace of his trademark slur. L could only stare up at him. The sudden and frightening change made him shiver.

"I'm sorry." L yelped, honestly afraid for a moment. He could feel the man trembling and wondered if he would simply snap his neck here and now.

Beyond shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if you love me at all." He tightened his grip on the older man's hair. "You don't act like it. But you love me, don't you? You do love me, Lawliet." The younger man cocked his head, watching L flinch and struggle in his grip. His voice was deceptively calm, but L noticed the slight shake in it, as well as the soft sound of his teeth clicking together. He could almost see the anger boiling in the man's red eyes.

"I-I do." Did he just stutter? Desperately looking for a way out of this, L reached up to touch Beyond's hand, still tangled in his hair. Beyond let go of him with something close to a shove. L staggered and hit the ground hard. Turning to look up at the younger man, he was surprised to find that all the anger he'd seen in his eyes had disappeared in the space of a few seconds.

Crouching down beside him, Beyond reached out a faintly trembling hand to touch the bruise on L's cheek. "I'm sorry." His voice was soft, sincere. He sounded like a child apologising to a classmate after pulling her ponytail. "But you can't do that. I get jealous, you know that." The man pulled him into a tight hug. L, not wanting to upset him again, wrapped his arms around his waist. He forced himself not to recoil at the feeling of the man's split spine shifting under his hands.

"I know." L answered, trying to choose his words carefully. "But it's alright. I know you love me."

"I do." Beyond whispered, nuzzling against his hair and slowly rocking them back and forth. "I love you, Lawliet."

Beyond could feel the man's strong heartbeat. It was surprisingly steady given the situation. Not like his at all. L's heart didn't skip and flutter like his did. It didn't stop for seconds at a time then re-start with a jolt that always made him cough.

L tightened his grip around the younger man's waist. For a moment, it was almost comforting, being held like this. Until he felt the needle press against his neck.

The pain was so sharp and sudden that he couldn't scream. L clawed at the younger man's arms, feeling his breath slowing to a dangerous level. His vision began to fade and a warm surge of panic rushed through his veins. Beyond kept a tight hold on him until he finally lost consciousness and lay limp in his arms, his head resting against his shoulder.

Beyond stifled a soft laugh in the raven's hair, rocking him like a mother holding her child. He was humming softly, a lullaby that was nearly lost in the hush of the falling rain.

********************************

"Near, how much longer?" Matt asked through the haze of static. The redhead glanced in the rearview mirror at the blonde on the motorcycle. It felt like they'd been driving for days.

"Twenty minutes." Near responded. Even through the static, his voice sounded harsh and rough, as though he'd been coughing again.

"Are you alright, Near?" Matt sounded more worried then he actually felt, hoping to get an answer. There was something the boy wasn't telling him. Strangely, it made him a bit angry to think that Near didn't trust him, but he carefully hid the emotion when he told him, "You sound strange."

Near was silent for a moment, then, "Just focus on keeping him out of trouble." Near suppressed a cough, and then switched the line to speak with the lead officer, who had arrived at the warehouse only moments ago.

"N," the man said before Near could speak, "call them off."

"What?" Near actually stood up out of his chair. What could've happened?

"They're gone." The officer continued grimly. "The place is completely empty."

Near sat back down. Or, more accurately, fell back into his chair with a disbelieving sigh. They were too late. After all that, they were too late.

"Damn it!" Near barked in a rare show of raw emotion, slamming his hands down on the metal desk in front of him. The sudden outburst triggered a coughing fit that put the boy on his knees. Quillsh kneeled down by him, placing a hand on his shoulder. There was nothing he could do.

Leaving Near to compose himself, he reached up to the keyboard. "Matt. Mello. Come back to the House."

Both boys answered simultaneously, the volume and subsequent feedback nearly deafening him, "What?!"

"We missed them. The place was completely empty. You'll have to come back for now." Quillsh let go of the button, severing the connection and turning his attention back to Near. "What do we do now?" he asked. His voice held a tinge of pain and desperation that Near had never heard from the man before, and never wanted to hear again.

"We find out where they're going." Near answered, his breath slightly ragged. "And get there before they have time to disappear." The boy drug himself to his feet, ignoring Quillsh's attempts to help him and moving to sit in his chair again. He had a time limit now.

Beyond was smarter than he'd given him credit for. But Near wouldn't lose to him again. The man was smart, but he didn't have the resources that Near had. He couldn't run forever.

After a few hours, Quillsh left the boy to his work, returning to his office to pace and worry in peace. For a few minutes, Near simply sat in his chair, staring at nothing. He was beginning to notice how tired he got when forced to stare at the computer screen for long periods. He was actually starting to get headaches. Near laughed a bit at that. Now he knew why Mello complained so much, and so loudly, about his migraines.

The door slid open then, revealing the slightly disheveled blonde tugging off his motorcycle helmet. He was clearly angry, but he didn't yell. At least, not at first.

Mello slung his helmet onto the couch with an ear-splitting scream. The pure volume of it made Near jump a bit in his chair. He turned to face the seething blonde, who was currently cursing and barking insults in German, sounding rather like a Nazi.

"What?" he snapped when he realised the boy was staring at him.

"It's nothing." Near answered in a deadpan. He started to turn back toward the monitors, but Mello's hand on the arm of the office chair stopped him.

"Look," hissed the blonde, leaning down to look the boy in the eyes. "I just got back from racing through the city on a bike I'm not technically allowed to ride, looking for a psychopath who has one of my friends. I'm a little stressed. Just what have you been doing? I know we have to work together, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I'm doing this for L, not for you. Just shut up and leave me the hell alone."

"Why?" It was such a strange thing to ask that it took Mello a moment to recover. Near could be so frustrating.

"I…hate you." He finally said. "I hate everything about you."

"Really? But I like you."

Mello had no idea what to say. He had been leaning forward a bit with his hands on the arms of the chair, but that suddenly felt too close. Standing up, he took a step back and stared at the boy in front of him.

Near looked steadily back at him, large eyes unreadable. After a few minutes, Mello recovered enough to speak. He picked up his left arm a bit, an old, nervous gesture. "I-" he started, but the hydraulic hiss of the door cut him off.

Matt stopped a few steps inside the door, catching sight of Mello, who had his arms crossed tightly over his 'Save a Book, Burn a Republican' T-shirt. "What'd I miss?"

The redhead asked, flopping down on the couch, apparently oblivious to the tension in the air.

"Nothing." Mello hissed, not looking at him. He wasn't sure what to think now. He thought he really hated Near, but only if the boy hated him back. He just didn't know how to feel anymore.

"Well, if nothing interesting's going on, I'm going to bed." Matt said, standing. The roughly 65 miles one way from Winchester to London, as well as the high stress and high speed had made him understandably tired. About halfway to the door, he turned and said, "And, Mels, you should get some rest, too. It's been a long day." It was a thinly veiled attempt to show that he knew how stressful it was for him with L missing.

"I'm alright." Mello's mind was clearly elsewhere, and Matt was too drained at the moment to make him pay attention. He gave Near a look before he disappeared through the door. Sometimes those two were more draining than the search.

Left alone again, Mello moved to sit on the couch Matt had just vacated. He turned his attention back to Near, who hadn't moved since Matt walked in. The boy looked paler than he remembered. At first, he'd thought it was just the glow of the computer screens that had bleached the colour from his skin. Now he wasn't sure that was all it was.

"What?" It was Near's turn to be annoyed.

Mello looked down for a moment. When he picked his head up again, he looked straight into Near's eyes, something he'd never really done before. "Are you alright?"

He thought he saw Near's eyes widen just a fraction, though he couldn't be sure. The doll sighed, actually looking away as if he were uncomfortable. "No." he said softly. "I'm really not." Why did he tell him that? Something about the blonde made him feel…safe, he guessed. Still, this was the kind of news that you kept hidden as long as you could. What was wrong with him?

Mello leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees. "What is it?" Why did he care? Concern? No, no. Curiosity? Maybe.

Near sighed, seeming very human for a moment. Somehow, he just couldn't lie to him. "I'm pretty sick." He sounded all of about ten when he said that.

Mello cocked his head. Near didn't seem like the type to say he was 'pretty sick' over something minor. "Sick?"

The boy nodded. He swallowed almost nervously, and then shook his head. "I'm alright. It's not that bad." He couldn't tell him. He needed him to focus on L for now. He wouldn't if he was worried about him.

"You don't want to tell me, do you?" the blonde asked with a slight smile. "Apparently, you didn't stop to think that you might have said too much already."

That was why he'd smiled. He'd trapped him. For once in his life, Near hadn't been thinking. Mello just made him so…emotional. The blonde watched the doll put his left leg down, sitting like a normal person for once. He folded his thin hands in his lap like a schoolboy, staring at the floor between them. The entire time, Mello had been thinking of that day when he'd told L he was a cutter. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Near." Mello said softly, just loud enough to get the boy's attention.

Near looked up at him from under the gentle fall of his slowly-thinning white-blonde hair. "I'm a cancer patient."

***********************************************************

A/N- The chapters are getting longer. And weirder. Matt's being kind of snarky for some reason, and Beyond is…Beyond. By the way, Don't Panic, L's Not Dead. Just thought I'd get that out of the way now. So, Near finally told Mello. That'll cause some tension.

(Reviews give you better chapters. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 16-Lullaby


	16. Lullaby

A/N-Now it's a conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck with longer chapters.

Since I'm leaving today, I stayed up late to write this for you.

Reviews mean 'thank you'.

**XVI-Lullaby**

It had stopped raining. L shifted uncomfortably on what he dimly realised was an actual bed. His body felt heavy, making it difficult to move. Not that he could move much at all with the nylon restraints fastened securely around his wrists and ankles. He was so tired; he probably couldn't force himself to sit up even if it wasn't for the strap across his chest. The left side of his face was badly bruised from his jaw line to the bottom of his eye. His neck and shoulder burned from the hypodermic needle Beyond had shoved into his skin.

Flexing his hands and shifting his legs as much as he could to make sure he wasn't paralised, he looked around at the strangely familiar surroundings. He knew this house, but he couldn't place it to save his life. Had he been more together, he might have laughed at that. L blinked until his eyes focused, trying to read the newspapers that covered the walls and were fastened over the window with red electrical tape.

The light was dim, but on each paper he could clearly see the letter 'L' drawn in what he hoped was red ink over the story. From what he could see of it, each one was a case he had solved. Beyond had been keeping tabs on him for years from the look of the place.

"I did this for you. Do you like it?"

L felt his still dangerously slow heartbeat stop for a moment. Beyond was resting his head on his arms on the side of the bed. He'd changed his shirt to match L, the bright white of the fabric somehow making him look even paler. He was probably sitting on his knees on the floor, L guessed.

"You…" L could hardly speak. Several days without anything at all to drink made his throat burn as though he'd swallowed broken glass. "Where am I?"

"We're home. Don't you remember, Lawli?" Beyond cocked his head against his shoulder, laughing playfully. L did remember. This place was on the other side of London, which meant he must have been out for several hours. It was Beyond's house, a small flat on the outskirts of the city. Easily overlooked.

This was bad. The strange, out-of-the-way location of the flat would make it difficult for Watari to find them, and Beyond knew the streets and alleyways surrounding the complex like the back of his hand.

But he wouldn't panic. It wouldn't do him any good to panic. Not that the thought didn't cross his mind.

A soft sound met his ears, bringing his attention back to the room. Beyond was humming. He was sitting back from the bed a bit and his eyes were fixed on his hands. L found himself shifting a bit to see what he was holding.

A key. A small silver key hanging from a thin chain around his neck.

L recognised it instantly. It was the key to his room at Wammy's House. A cold rush of fear flooded his system. Beyond had a key to his room. Now, looking around at the dimly-lit room, he saw several of his clothes hanging in the small closet in the far wall. The few knick-knacks he owned were set on the dresser near the door, along with several pictures of him at the orphanage that he didn't remember posing for.

When Beyond still lived at Wammy's House, he would often disappear for days at a time, usually after L had 'lost' something from his room. It hadn't made sense until now. L mentally kicked himself for not noticing it sooner.

He turned his wrists uncomfortably in the nylon straps. They were the kind used by the hospital. "How?" L managed.

Beyond giggled. "Inquisitive as always." He said, as though he were praising a small child. Jumping up from the floor, he moved to stand by the window, shifting the papers aside to look out. "That doctor never paid attention to me. He didn't even notice that his needle was missing."

If L could've moved, he would have raised a hand to his neck. Beyond, standing at the window, began chewing on his nails. Or, more accurately, he was chewing on the skin around his nails. As L watched the man staring out of the window, he realised something that made his skin crawl. Slipping into a near-catatonic state, Beyond was eating his skin. He was ripping long pieces of it from his fingers, swallowing them whole and than licking the blood from the open wounds.

What was possibly more disturbing was the fact that he began to sing. It was slow and soft. A lullaby that L hadn't heard in ages. L began to sing along, recalling the words easily.

_Yuki ga furu  
Shizukana Lullaby utau awai yokogao  
Toji komerareta chiisana heya wa  
Ai to yoberu kiga shiteiru_

He had learned it years ago, when he was still a child. He used to sing it for Beyond when neither of them could sleep. He was amazed that the man had remembered it for so long.

As the song continued, L found it more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. He rested his head on the soft pillow, closing his eyes and listening to the strangely comforting sound of the younger man's voice. Beyond sounded so different. His voice was slightly lower now with a smooth, purely musical quality L had never heard in it before.

"As beautiful as ever." Beyond whispered, staring at the snow that had just begun to fall. L had fallen asleep, but he had expected that. The drug was still in his system and would knock him out every now and then for a few days. He'd sung the last verse on his own, quietly so as not to wake him. The younger man curled up on the bed at L's side. "Just like you."

********************************

L flinched as he came to, gunmetal-grey eyes flickering open at the unfamiliar sound that filled the room. Music. Someone was playing the piano.

L recognised the piece immediately. The World, by Nightmare, but he'd never heard it played so beautifully. Shifting on the bed, he realised that his hands were free. The nylon restraints had all been removed, but he didn't get his hopes up. There was no way that Beyond would simply let him go after all this. The doors and windows had probably been bolted shut with industrial locks or something equally extreme. L resisted the urge to check himself for a tracking anklet.

The piece ended, the last note slowly fading away into silence. L stepped carefully through the door, not wanting to startle the young man sitting at the baby grand. How someone like Beyond could afford a baby grand piano, L wasn't sure, nor did he care to venture a guess at where he found the time to learn to play like that.

"So you're awake." Beyond said casually, not even glancing back at L, who had lingered near the far wall, still a little unsteady on his feet. He ran a hand absently over the keys, saying, "You used to play. I remember."

"I did." L answered. "Years ago. When did you…" he trailed off, not quite sure how to ask what he wanted to without mentioning the hospital.

"I learned for you." Beyond said softly.

"You've learned a lot for me."

"A new language and a few songs aren't that much. But I've learned a lot about you." The younger man turned to face him, swinging his legs around to the opposite side of the bench to avoid twisting his spines. "I know you, Lawli. I know you so well." Up till that point he'd sounded relatively sane. He was smiling a bit as he spoke. He placed his hands on the bench on either side of him, gently kicking his legs the way Mello used to.

L had taught the blonde to play to ease the stress of moving to Wammy's House. He wanted to play, but he didn't really want to learn. Once he started to retain the information, though, he actually came to all of his lessons. Knowing that Near couldn't play helped to motivate him considerably.

Beyond put his head on one side. "Do you remember how?" he asked.

L almost stepped forward, but he wasn't sure if he should get too close to the man. He seemed calm now, but he could change emotions like flicking a switch. "I might." L said cautiously.

"Then, will you play for me? As a birthday present."

That's right. It was Halloween. He'd forgotten that he shared his birthday with the younger man. "I'm not sure if I remember how." He said. "But I re-learn things quickly." He could never be too careful around Beyond. That lesson was starting to come back to him now. Everything the man did or said seemed to have a double meaning.

Beyond stood up with the same flawless grace L often exhibited. "Show me."

********************************

Mello watched the small boy in front of him. It made sense now, how protective Quillsh was of him. It was rare for him to admit to feeling bad about being so horrible to someone, but he felt absolutely sick about it this time. Picking on an emotionless little brat was one thing but harassing a cancer patient was going too far. Even Mello had his limits and principles.

"I thought so." Mello jumped and spun to face Matt, who had been leaning in the doorway the entire time. "So, you've been sick this whole time." It wasn't a question.

"I didn't need you worried about me." Near deadpanned.

"You're _dying!_" Matt barked, stepping forward. "And you don't want us to worry?"

"Matt, don't yell at him. It isn't his fault." Matt turned to Mello in pure disbelief. The blonde was standing with his fingertips against his forehead, staring at his boots. He'd never seen Matt angry before.

"Don't tell me not to yell." The redhead pointed to Near. "This little brat doesn't trust us enough to tell us something like this! How does that not piss you off?! After all the time we spent together, he doesn't trust us to-".

Mello punched him hard in the jaw with enough force to knock him to the ground. Looking up at the blonde, his goggles askew, Matt saw the strangest look of pain in Mello's eyes.

The redhead clenched his teeth. "You _bitch!_" he snapped, standing and driving his knee into the blonde's stomach. Mello coughed and staggered, catching himself on the edge of the couch and wrapping an arm around his ribcage. He growled low in his throat like a feral dog, catching Matt under the chin with a vicious uppercut, nearly knocking him out.

"_Du Schweinehund!_" Mello barked, than forced himself to switch to English. "Did we all forget that we have two men missing, one of which is ours, the other is _a serial killer!_" he pointed to Matt, who was seated firmly on the ground again. "You, get over it, get your act together. I don't care that 'none of your friends trust you' and you're mad about it. And you," he turned to Near. "Can you focus on not dying long enough to find that psycho bastard?"

Near wasn't sure whether to be offended or not. "I can try." He told him, swinging his chair back around to face the monitors. Mello moved to sit at the boy's side, completely ignoring Matt, who was just starting to pick himself up off the floor.

Mello had never hit him like that before, not once. He'd been honestly angry, something Matt realised he'd never seen before. Rather than try to talk with the blonde, who clearly wanted as little to do with him as possible right now, he simply moved to an empty desk and quietly began to work. It was going to be a long night.

********************************

Beyond leaned his head against L's shoulder. He could hear the raven's heart beating, the strong, comforting sound nearly putting him to sleep. The two sat at the piano, even though L had stopped playing an hour ago. He sat with an arm around the younger man's shoulders, the way he often did when they were young. His left hand was pressed against Beyond's chest, over the man's heart. It was badly irregular.

His heart fluttered and skipped, actually stopping every now and then for several seconds at a time before re-starting again with a jolt. The longer he was around this man, the more he wondered how he was even still alive. Like this, he seemed so innocent. It just…wasn't fair. He had an amazing intellect and a resolve that would rival even Mello. So, why?

Beyond was starting to think again. It would be too dangerous to stay here for long. L's 'friends' would try to take him back. Oh, well. If they got to be too much trouble, he'd make them disappear. He wouldn't lose L again. Even if he had to kill them both.

***********************************************************

A/N- The chapters are getting longer. And weirder. And I'm very tired.

(Reviews give you better chapters. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 17-Goodnight


	17. Goodnight

A/N-Still maintaining that this is a conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck. (I just love saying that.)

I know I said I'd take a break but I'm not feeling too well, so I started writing in the hotel room. By the by, I actually like rats.

**XVII-Goodnight**

Beyond stirred gently in his sleep, curling up a little tighter on the tattered blanket that covered the mattress. L slipped quietly from the uncomfortably cramped room he was forced to share with the man. Removing the nylon straps and leaving L unrestrained while he slept was another amateur mistake.

The older raven began to pace the darkened living room, looking from door to window to heating grate trying to find some weakness in the security. Nothing. Every lock was fastened securely, every curtain was drawn closed. There was no way out that wouldn't wake the younger man. L could only imagine what Beyond would do to him if that happened.

He flinched and hissed softly as the thought brought a sudden, sharp pain to his neck. He still felt slightly dizzy from whatever Beyond had injected him with a few days earlier, which L guessed to be something similar to Seroquil based on how disconnected he still felt. L didn't handle medication well, which was a main part of why he never took anything to help him sleep. Anything he did take always made him groggy and kept him from thinking clearly.

L moved to the window, edging the heavy drapes back to look out over the snow-covered street. It was late, around 2 a.m., if he had to guess. Outside, the world was silent. L was always fascinated by how quiet the world seemed whenever it started to snow.

He dimly wondered if Watari would ever find him here. The Englishman had only known Beyond when he was a child. A part of him doubted Watari would even remember that Beyond imitated L as closely as he could in everything he did, meaning he would be incredibly difficult to track down. Trying to find Beyond was like trying to find L. And L was next to impossible to find.

Looking around, he found himself wondering how long it had been since the younger man had even set foot in this place. Piles of old papers were stacked in the corners along with several old boxes, partially chewed through by the few large rats that scurried across the hardwood floor. Strangely, there was no smell of mold in the air, only a slight stuffiness that felt suspiciously like Near's room always did back home.

L returned to pacing, something he would find himself doing a lot around the artificial raven in the next room. Beyond was more able to reason things out than L had expected.

Finally, his natural curiosity, and complete inability to stay in one place for more than 20 minutes, got the better of him and he started to wander. The kitchen was cramped and looked rather like a garage sale drank a bottle of whisky and threw up in it. Old dishes, many mismatched and cracked, were still stacked on the counter, as though the man had left in a hurry. The rats didn't seem to mind though, playfully jumping from dish to dish, occasionally skidding and landing on the floor with a solid _thump_ only to crawl back up to the counter and repeat the maneuver.

As L stood a few feet away and watched them with a sick fascination, he noticed that several of the larger rats had what appeared to be handmade collars fastened securely around their necks. Was Beyond keeping these things as pets? If that was the case, the man would most likely have no qualms about sending them after him if he did get away. The thought of being chased through the streets of London by a pack of starving rats made him cringe and press his back against the far wall. Among the few creatures L truly didn't like, rats and spiders ranked the highest.

L moved carefully to avoid stepping on the furry creatures. He finally made it across the room to the small, black refrigerator, which was nearly invisible in the darkness. He hooked one finger around the handle, realising with a grimace that what was left of the plastic coating was very slightly sticky. As he pulled the door open, the light that flooded the small kitchen caused the rats to squeak and scatter, several of them tripping over old dishes and rusted silverware. L froze, hoping that the clatter hadn't woken the younger raven. After a few moments of relative silence, he relaxed. The man was apparently used to the noises his 'pets' made at night.

Looking into the fridge, he found several small jars of what he sincerely hoped was strawberry jam set on the top shelf. L gently shook his head in disbelief. Beyond even mimicked his love of sweets.

Shutting the refrigerator door as quietly as he could, L crossed the cracked tile floor again. It was much faster this time without the danger of stepping on a rat.

Walking back through the main room set him at the end of a long hallway which lead to a small room on the opposite side of the flat. L stepped back, not quite sure if he really wanted to know what was on the other side of the closed door. He glanced over his shoulder, looking into the bedroom. Beyond was still sleeping, curled up on his side with his wrists crossed like a dog. L cringed as he saw a large rat sniffing at him, reaching up with it's small paws to grab hold of his tangled hair.

Beyond shifted lazily, gently swatting at the creature, who backed away for a moment before crawling forward again to lie down next to him, pressing it's small, furry body against his chest. There was no heat in the small flat, so the rat would probably sleep there for the rest of the night, seeking warmth. L shuddered faintly at the thought of living like this, never really knowing anything better. It only made it worse knowing that the house hadn't changed much since the man's parents had died. This was the only life he'd ever really known.

L shook his head again. This was the man that had essentially kidnapped him and still held him hostage in a rodent-infested flat with no heat in the middle of winter. But this was the man's home. He was actually starting to feel sorry for Beyond. Stockholm Syndrome wouldn't get him anywhere he wanted to be.

A sharp rap on the door startled him, causing him to jump and yelp softly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Beyond slowly sit up, still cradling the sleeping rat against his chest. He and L both had the ability to be instantly awake and alert if need be. He placed a bone-thin finger to his lips, telling L to keep quiet and slipping out of sight toward the built-in closet.

L jumped and stepped back at the blast of frigid air as a night watchman threw his shoulder into the door with enough force to break the heavy bolts that were fastened across it. The big man cringed as he looked around the room, his gaze finally resting on L, who stood against the piano.

He was nearly 6"4', with short, red hair and heavy features. The dark blue night watchman's uniform looked about two sizes too small for him, apparently making it difficult for him to move too quickly and causing him to waddle. He stopped a few steps inside the door, which was hanging by only the top hinge.

"You alright, sir?" he asked with a heavy Scottish accent, apparently noticing the bruise on L's cheek even in the dim light let in through the doorway. Strangely, he didn't seem to be too surprised to find someone there, despite nearly breaking the door down moments earlier. When L didn't answer him, he said, "Place has been empty since that business 'bout 16 years ago. Got a little suspicious, what with the music and all, you understand."

L nodded, unwilling to speak. He'd forgotten about playing the piano a few hours ago. He started to think about just how atrocious the security team's response time was, but that was really a train of thought for another time.

The big man stepped forward, which put his back to the open door of the bedroom. L thought about warning him, but then realised that Beyond was just unstable enough to kill him too if he crossed him. The man kept quiet, hiding against the edge of the piano.

"You alright?" the man asked again. He stepped forward as if were a curious cat. "What's your name, sir?" L wouldn't answer him. He knew that his fear was showing in his eyes. His gaze kept flickering to the open door behind him, waiting. He was hoping that Beyond would simply hide until the man left. Unfortunately, he knew Beyond far too well to think for a second that the man would let someone innocent live.

A second later, a deafening gunshot confirmed his theory. The watchman's eyes widened and he fell forward without a sound. L suddenly understood the meaning of the phrase, 'dead before you hit the ground'. Beyond stood a few feet back from the body, just outside the bedroom door. He was trembling and clutching what looked to be a Glock in his left hand. How in the world did he get his hands on a gun?

A small squeaking sound met L's ears then. He followed Beyond's gaze to the body on the floor. A small rat was trapped under the big man's left shoulder. Beyond kneeled down, setting the gun down at his side and freeing the rat. The tiny creature was clearly in pain. It whimpered and burrowed into his hands as though it were cold.

Beyond held the rat against his chest and L could hear him speaking softly, though he couldn't quite hear what he was saying. The man paused for a moment, then lowered his head and dug his teeth into the creature's back, his jaws snapping its spine and killing it instantly. L turned his head with a shocked gasp at the sickening crunch, sliding down the wall and feeling stomach acid burning his throat.

When he dared to look back at the younger man, Beyond had laid the rat down next to the guard's body. L was nearly sick at the sight of the creature's spinal cord spilling over the floor. Beyond was standing by the front door with his head on one side, listening. He'd picked up the gun again and was wiping it down with an old jacket, careful not to touch it again once he'd cleaned it. "We need to move." He said simply, lying the gun down carefully by the bedroom door and pulling the jacket on over his now blood-stained white shirt.

"Why?" L whispered, staring at the lifeless rat, who stared steadily back at him, large red eyes disturbingly blank. "It didn't do anything to you."

"It was dying." Beyond answered. "I couldn't let it suffer."

L stared up at the younger man from his spot on the floor, not quite remembering when he'd sat down. He couldn't let it suffer? L looked down at the body of the guard. Beyond had shot him straight through the heart. Death had been instantaneous.

As he pulled himself to his feet, he never took his eyes from Beyond, who was waiting patiently by the door. Blood still stained the skin around his mouth. L felt slightly sick when he thought of the diseases that the man could contract from doing something like that.

Still, the fact that Beyond had enough of a conscious to kill things quickly made him feel a bit better about the man. Murderer or not, it proved that he was human enough to feel some emotion. A small kindness.

Stockholm Syndrome was a dangerous thing. Tolerating the man was one thing, liking him was another thing entirely.

L crossed the room to stand at his side, honestly looking into his eyes for the first time since they'd met. Beyond was there. The classic soul-less look that people often describe in a murderer's eyes wasn't present at all. The man was alert, alive. He gave L a gentle, almost reassuring smile before he stepped out of the flat. He paused for a moment to be sure L was following him, and then took off at a run out of the complex.

L stumbled a bit at first, but soon caught up with him, keeping only a pace or two behind to avoid getting separated in the snow. Distantly, L began to hear what Beyond must have heard standing at the door minutes earlier. Sirens. Someone must have called the police after hearing the gunshot.

The two rounded a corner onto a dimly-lit street, Beyond easily finding his way through the side streets and alleyways. L almost let himself laugh at the situation. The world's greatest detective running from the police.

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A/N- That was just creepy. You can tell I'm not feeling well, can't you?

(Reviews make me feel better. Thanks to everyone who reviews my work. Ever.)

Next: Chapter 18-Midnight in December


	18. Midnight in December

A/N-Still maintaining that this is a conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck.

I got thrown out of a Holiday Inn in Greenville, Alabama. Actually, that's not true. I wanted to throw other people out of a Holiday Inn in Greenville, Alabama. It was bad enough that I spent the better part of the night in the bathtub like Beyond to avoid killing someone. Other than that, it was a good trip.

And forgive me, but Mello's kinda emo again for this chapter. I just can't seem to keep him in one personality all the way through.

**XVIII-Midnight in December**

Red. It was all red.

Near stared down at his faintly trembling hands. He could taste iron on the back of his tongue again. A thin line of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth and his throat was raw, making it difficult to swallow. His coughing fits had been getting worse lately and he was beginning to wonder if he hadn't cracked a rib the last time. Looking up into the lighted mirror in the cramped bathroom, he noticed the dark shadows that were starting to from under his eyes.

_You look like L_, his brain told him. Near almost laughed. Like L. So many people wanted to be like L. Was that how they'd remember him? As a clone, a cheap copy? Near shook his head. It didn't matter anyway. Once Mello had his role model back, he'd forget all about being nice to him, cancer patient or not. The complete 180 in the blonde's personality couldn't possibly last long. That was just the way it was.

But that was the problem. Mello protected Near. Near liked Mello because he protected him. No, that wasn't quite right. Near liked Mello because he was able to protect him. Near jumped, staring at his reflection. He was…jealous. Near was jealous of Mello. He was always the emotionless one. The calm, cool and collected one that kept everyone else in check. But he wanted Mello's fire. The passion that the blonde had for life and those he cared for never ceased to amaze him. And every now and then he wished he had that kind of drive.

Still, punching Matt like that was a more violent reaction than he'd expected, even from someone like Mello. No one had ever stood up for him before, even when he was a child. The less-than-creative bullies in the public schools used to hold him down outside and burn him with a magnifying glass they had probably stolen from the science lab.

Near shivered at the memory. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and placed a hand on the doorknob. Once he stepped through that door, he wasn't Nate River anymore. He was Near. And that's the way it would stay for as long as he could manage it.

********************************

Mello kept his eyes on Near until the boy reached the bathroom door. He wondered dimly if he was pushing himself to hard, but he couldn't quite bring himself to say anything. It was early December, which meant they'd been working nearly non-stop for over a month. Every time they got close, Beyond would disappear with L again. It was completely ridiculous that they had no decent leads and no idea where to go from here. Near was getting annoyed, too, but he knew his limits. If he thought that he really couldn't continue, he'd be the first one to say so. Right?

Matt pushed several files off of his desk with an annoyed snarl. "Where the hell are they?" he asked the ceiling, leaning back in his chair until it was balanced on two legs. "We've checked every train station and airport in the country."

Mello rested his head in his hand. Suddenly, he sat up straight, looking at the map pinned to the wall. "Maybe that's our problem." He said softly, standing up. "Maybe they're still here."

"What?" Matt picked his head up and looked at the blonde as though he'd lost his mind.

"Pay attention, you doughnut." Mello said as he reached over the desk for a small tray of pushpins.

"Doughnut?" Matt sat up, not quite sure if he'd heard correctly. "Did you just call me a doughnut?"

"Got your attention, didn't it?" the blonde laughed. He switched gears again and was suddenly all business. "Beyond thinks like L." Mello said seriously as he picked up several of the pins from the tray, marking every place the pair had been starting from the warehouse and ending with the old hospital downtown. "So, what would L do?"

Matt sat up a little straighter, picking up the thread as he saw the pattern the pins formed. "He'd stay in the city."

"Because when most people run, they flee the country. L would do just the opposite."

"He'd hide in plain sight!" Matt clapped his hands. He was nearly laughing now.

Mello shook his head at the slightly bouncing boy in front of him. "But where would he go?"

Matt stopped bouncing. He folded his arms and sat back down, not quite remembering when he'd stood up in the first place. "Well, we traced his cell to the warehouse in London. He'd probably stay in the city. That's what Beyond seems to be doing." He said, gesturing to the map. The pins were clustered around London with only one or two falling outside the city limits.

"But he'd have to put some distance between him and the last place they were to avoid being caught in a search of the surrounding area. But he couldn't go far because they would most likely keep a watch on traffic in and out of the city." Mello was showing the nearly staggering intellect that had earned him a place at Wammy's House all those years ago.

Matt thought about that for a moment. "What about along the outskirts?"

Mello froze. "That's it." He said. "That's it. If he stayed along the outskirts on the opposite side of the city, he could hide easily and still move around freely most of the day."

"You'd be a good criminal, Mels," Matt laughed in disbelief. He sat back in the plastic chair, tugging the ever-present Nintendo DS out of his jacket pocket. "I think you found him."

Mello smiled, snapping a piece of chocolate off of the bar he'd pulled from the desk drawer. He was clearly pleased with himself. "We found him."

Matt was suddenly serious again. "But it doesn't really make sense, you know." He said, leaning back in his chair again. Mello must have looked confused because the redhead continued, "I mean, if he had a chance to get away from that psycho, why wouldn't he?"

"Maybe he didn't have a way out." Mello said thoughtfully, sitting down next to Matt and staring at the map above the desk.

"He's L," Matt reasoned, "He'd find a way out."

"Maybe it's Stockholm Syndrome." Near's perfectly emotionless voice smoothly interrupted them. "If Beyond has shown him any kindness at all, it's not impossible that even L would start to connect with him."

"Connect?" Mello spat. "The man is insane! He shot a night watchman and ripped the spine out of a rat with his teeth!"

Matt gave a disgusted groan. "He did what?"

"Actually he only snapped the creature's spinal column, presumably with his teeth."

"Oh, my God!" Matt looked as though he was going to be sick. He had a very visual imagination from years of playing his video games. "Why?"

"We have no idea." Near answered calmly. "But I'm sure the police will question him about that."

Mello gave a half-hearted laugh and said, "So you heard us?"

"I did." The boy answered. He sat down in his chair again, focusing on the screens. "Very good work, Mello."

"_Was?_"

"_I said, 'very good work'_." Near repeated, not looking back but using Mello's first language to get his message across a bit clearer.

"Yeah, than-thank you." Mello hated being so uneasy whenever the boy spoke to him, but without being able to speak through the near-constant veil of hatred, he was unsure of what to say to Near at times like this.

********************************

It was decided that they would leave as soon as they could gather a team from the remaining students at Wammy's House as well as the local police. They had narrowed the search down to an abandoned theatre on the far side of London. It would take them a fair bit of time to get to the opposite side of the city from the lab at Wammy's House, so it made sense to allow the police to go on ahead and follow them in the mobile lab Quillsh had designed for situations like these.

The stress of the situation was starting to get to Mello. He sat in the dimly lit truck as Matt and Quillsh loaded what equipment they could into it. He snapped a bit of chocolate off of a new bar with his teeth. He was anxious.

Nothing ever changed. This day was always the same. They all forgot about him. But that was just fine with him. It meant he didn't have to deal with them. It also meant that he had time alone with his thoughts.

He had time to remember how horrible his life had been. And once the memories started to play, they wouldn't stop. Not for anything.

Mello stood and bolted, running through the door that led into the mansion from the garden. The tears caused his vision to blur, making him trip several times. He finally fell against the wrought iron fence about 200 yards from the mansion.

The frigid snow that swirled around him made him shiver. He fell to his knees on the concrete, wringing him hands at his chest. Desperate, he slammed his left hand against the metal gate.

The pain was sharp and instant. Mello wrenched his hand back with a sharp cry. This far from the house, the lights were dim, but now he could clearly see bright, crimson blood dripping steadily onto the snow.

This part of the fence was several years old, and the grey, dreary England weather had caused it to rust and break. A jagged piece of iron had punctured his glove and driven itself into the side of his hand. Rust and mold clung to the bleeding gash.

Mello found himself staring. It was all so familiar. The blonde trembled, his breathing shallow and too fast. He tore his glove from his bleeding hand with his teeth and struck the fence again. Fresh blood drew beautiful patterns over his skin, horribly bright against the blinding white of the snow.

Again and again, Mello brought his hand against the fence, letting the blood run down his arm under the sleeve of his leather jacket. Finally. Finally he could breathe again. Resting his right shoulder against the cold metal, he let his eyes fall closed for a moment. Something was wrong. He'd never been this tired before.

"Mello?" The blonde looked up at the sound of his name. Matt stood a few feet away, red hair lightly frosted with snow and green eyes wide behind his goggles. His gaze was fixed on a spot just to Mello's right. Glancing over, he realised why. The white blanket of snow was stained a solid crimson around him. There was far more blood than he thought there'd be, and he wondered for a moment if he'd lost too much this time.

"Mello." Matt kneeled beside him, looking like a frightened child. He reached out, gently taking the blonde's hand. His heart skipped a beat at the deep puncture wounds still dripping slowly congealing blood onto the ground. "What did you do?"

"_I-I,"_ Mello stuttered softly in German. He was in too much pain to bother with English. _"I'm so terribly sorry for everything." _

"Mello? Mello!" Matt shook the blonde hard by the shoulder. Mello scrambled to keep his balance in the plastic chair. He was still trembling faintly and his breathing was slightly fast. "You were dreaming."

The redhead looked worried. He kept a hand on Mello's shoulder as the blonde took in his surroundings. They were in their mobile lab, disguised as a delivery truck, but they could hear Near talking with the police through his laptop, leading them to the abandoned theatre, almost completely destroyed by fire late last year. From the sound of things, the police were already there.

The stress of the situation must be getting to him. It had been so long since he'd thought of that day, and even longer since he'd had that dream. The only thing that was ever the same in the dreams were the wounds. It didn't matter what he used to cause them, they were always exactly the same. The setting was always different, and every time, a different person found him. But why was it Matt?

"Hey," Said the redhead softly. "You alright, Mels? You were muttering."

"It's nothing." Mello replied, grateful for his German. He stared at the calendar and the steadily falling snow outside. _It's just my birthday._

***********************************************************

So they found him. But will everyone come back alive?

A/N- (I need to stop begging for reviews. But still, thanks to everyone who reviews my work.)

Next: Chapter 19-Absolute Friends


	19. Absolute Friends

A/N-Still maintaining that this is a conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck.

Written very quickly while I was supposed to be on holiday because I really want to get this story done. I'm working on two others while I'm trying to finish Mad WorLd because if I stop working on a story for too long it takes me forever to get back into it.

**XIX-Absolute Friends**

L was exhausted. The past month with his doppelganger had been the worst year of his life. His multiple cuts and bruises could attest to that. At least he'd been relatively lucky in that Beyond hadn't broken anything. Yet. He was just thankful that the man had left the gun in the flat after he'd killed the night watchman.

They had moved so many times that even L had lost count. At present, the raven paced the floor of the abandoned theatre, staring at nothing in particular and trying to find a way out of this that wouldn't put his friends in danger. So far, he had nothing. For the last month, he'd had nothing.

Traveling with the man who had currently disappeared through a door in the far wall was only marginally preferable to being eviscerated by thousands of starving rats. Marginally.

Beyond laughed gently as he stepped through the door behind the stage that L assumed lead into the rest of the building. The man had been gone for a little over an hour. L was surprised that he had left him alone for that long. He caught the older man by the wrists and pulled him up on stage. "Come on, Lawli," he laughed. _"Tanz mit mir."_ He said in flawless German.

L stopped, wondering just where in the world the man had picked up a third language. Dance with him? Was he serious?

Beyond pulled them so they were spinning. L recognised the scene immediately, though, there was no furnace burning behind them and they weren't singing. Eventually, L pulled him close and the dance turned to a slow waltz. L hadn't danced in years, but he only tripped once in the very beginning and that was because of the tattered deep-purple curtain that still hung from the ceiling.

The younger man was almost charming when he was calm. He was surprisingly graceful for all his problems and moved as if he'd been dancing all his life. L couldn't even hear his spines clicking together most of the time.

Once the dance was over and the two stepped away from each other, the calm feeling lingered for several moments. L stepped off of the stage to pace the floor again, Beyond tagging along behind him like a lost puppy. The man jumped one of the few theatre chairs that wasn't broken, getting as close as he possibly could to where the older raven was pacing.

After a few moments, Beyond began to rap his fingers on his knees, producing an unnerving clicking noise. "I think we should move." He said suddenly, sounding the slightest bit nervous. L stopped pacing for a moment to look at him.

"Why?" he asked, trying not to sound short. It was a simple question, but now even simple questions were becoming very dangerous. In the last week, L had lost track of how many times he'd been slapped across the face or had his hair pulled hard enough to make his eyes water. Beyond had always apologised and hugged him, even kissed him once or twice. Still, L always felt as though it was his fault he'd gotten hurt. Of course, he knew that that was how it worked with Obsessive Love. Layering L's own Stockholm Syndrome on top of that only made the entire experience worse. He understood it perfectly, but he never thought he'd actually be around someone like that, much less the focus of it.

"We just…need to move." Beyond said clearly, jumping down from his perch. It almost sounded like an order. _They'll be here soon. We can't be here. He'll leave with them if we're here. Then I'll have to kill them._

The sudden blare of police sirens nearly deafened them. Beyond clenched his pointed teeth, standing and slapping L hard across the face. "What did you do?" he snapped, red eyes flashing.

"Nothing." What could he say? He never saw the strikes coming, and Beyond wouldn't have listened to anything he had to say anyway.

The artificial raven snarled, grabbing L by the wrist and dragging him back to the stage. The older man was still limping slightly from a particularly violent altercation the previous week. Beyond had pushed him down a flight of stairs, after he'd refused to give him a straight answer when he'd asked if L loved him. Though, in his defense, L had pointed out that it wouldn't exactly be a 'straight' answer if he'd said yes.

Just as the two reached the far wall, the front door was forced open. Beyond swung L in front of him, pressing his back against the scorched concrete wall. He dug his nails into L's wrist, actually growling at the men blocking the doorway.

"Freeze!" the clichéd bark echoed in the dark theatre. A small brigade of about ten officers blocked the main doors. Something wasn't right. There was no way that Watari would put the police in danger to save L. No matter how much the man meant to him.

"Back off!" Beyond snapped. He hold on L's wrist was painfully tight, his nails digging in deep enough to draw blood. He suddenly released the raven, pushing him forward and reaching back into the tattered curtain that hung behind him. When he brought his arm forward again, L felt his heart stop cold in his chest at the sight of the small metal box he held. A trigger.

He understood now why Beyond had risked leaving him alone earlier in the day. He'd rigged the place with explosives. He'd known that the team was getting closer and wouldn't risk losing L. Knowing him, he'd take out the entire city block.

"I said back off!" Beyond's already higher voice was painfully loud in the cavernous theatre. He raised his arm above his head, barking, "I'll kill us all! I'll kill you!"

"B," L began, but the man cut him off with a shrill bark.

"Shut up! I gave up everything to find you again, you ungrateful mutt!" He drew a deep breath, panting, "How dare you."

"B, calm down." L started to stand up, but then rethought it and crouched on the stage where he'd landed. If he tried to run, he wouldn't get far. It made sense now. 'If I can't have him, no one can.' Since the police in England couldn't carry guns, there was little they could do. They'd never get through the theatre in time. It would take Beyond less than a second to press the trigger and send the entire building up in flames. Being caught in the blast would most likely be fatal.

Beyond caught L's gaze. For what felt like forever, the two simply stared at one another. 'Mirror opposites,' L thought, staring up at the younger man. Beyond's red eyes flashed. He shifted his gaze to the space above L's head, a soft smile twisting his lips.

"Goodbye."

********************************

A wave of fire swept the building, incinerating what remained of the underlying structure. The explosion deafened the small team of officers who were, thankfully, set up a safe distance away behind heavy blast shields. Matt stood up, shaking snow, what seemed to be bits of sheetrock, out of his hair, looking around at the devastation. His ears were still ringing.

The police worked to keep the obligatory crowd that had started to form at a safe distance while the team from Wammy's House picked up what remained of the projection screen they had set in front of the doors.

Pieces of the theatre's roof were scattered about and what was left of the building was nearly engulfed in flames. Distantly, he could hear the sirens as the fire trucks tore through the streets. Even with the steadily falling snow, they'd get here in time, though it would be close. If L was even still alive, that is.

He noticed then how quiet it was. The distant sirens and the crackling of the fire, accompanied by the heavy smell of smoke, was the only sound. Matt hadn't heard the one thing he'd been expecting to.

"Near?" the redhead asked above the noise. "Where's Mello?"

The boy responded through the headset, "I'm afraid we lost track of him during the shuffle."

The fire trucks had arrived and now the men searched the ruins for survivors, or… Matt's eyes fell to the far corner of the wreckage, near where the stage would've been. There were two firemen working around one man, who Matt guessed to be Beyond, while two others kneeled a few feet away.

L lay on a stretcher near the waiting ambulance. He was unconscious and what remained of his white shirt was stained a dark crimson. Beyond was worse off, but he was still breathing and had several medics around him. He would most likely survive. So who else…Oh, no.

Matt bolted through the security line the police had set up. It couldn't be him. He stopped short, staring at the sight in front of him. 'This can't be real,' he told himself. 'I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming.'

Mello was lying on the debris-covered ground with his arms wrapped around himself, one hand covering the left side of his face. He was screaming, a loud, heart-wrenching sound Matt had only heard in his nightmares. The paramedics were holding his legs down to keep him from thrashing and kicking. Getting ash into the wound would cause him even more pain than he was already in. One man firmly grasped the blonde's wrist and forced his hand away from his face, revealing the extent of the damage. Matt fell back a step at the nightmarish sight. It felt as though the air had been knocked out of him.

The blonde's face from his hairline to roughly halfway down his cheek was badly burned. Blood and loose bits of charred flesh clung to his gloved hand. The bright white of his cheekbone could be seen through the blood that drenched his hair, flowing across his neck and colouring the snow beneath him scarlet. It would be a nothing short of a miracle if he didn't loose his left eye.

"You idiot." Matt whispered. His legs gave out beneath him, dropping him to ash-covered the ground. "Mello, what the hell where you thinking?"

***********************************************************

Wow. A lot more violent that I originally planned it. And a lot shorter. Oh, well, the best laid plans.

Well? What do you guys think? Will Mello survive?

A/N- (I need to stop begging for reviews. But still, thanks to everyone who reviews my work.)

Next: Chapter 20-Guardian


	20. Guardian

A/N-Still maintaining that this is a conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck.

A strange little chapter, written because I don't have any actual work to do. And, maybe, because I like feeling like I matter, at least in a small way, to someone outside my family.

**XX-Guardian**

Mello's blue eyes flickered open. For a moment all he saw was white. The blinding lights above him made him wince and shut his eyes again. He was lying in a bed surrounded by monitors and gauges. A heavy bandage was fastened over the left side of his face, covering his eye.

A hospital, his mind finally caught up. He was still alive.

"Mels?" The familiar voice made him turn his head. Matt was sitting in a plastic chair at his bedside. The redhead's goggles were set firmly over his eyes, which visibly brightened when he saw the blonde was awake. He started to smile as he set the Nintendo DS on the table. "Welcome back."

"Where is he?" Mello asked, a bit surprised at how heavy his German accent was. He hadn't dreamt in English while he was unconscious, and found that he was actually having some trouble with the language now.

Matt sighed. "Always worried about him instead of yourself, aren't you?" For some reason, his American accent seemed much more obvious right then. "Fine. L is fine. He had a few minor cuts and bruises, but that was all. Beyond was pretty messed up, but he'll survive. Quillsh is having him sent straight to prison once his burns have healed. And Near…" Matt trailed off. "Near hasn't been doing so well."

"How long was I out?" Mello asked, sitting up carefully. He didn't want to think about Near right now.

"About a week." Matt answered. He laughed then, "Best coma I ever saw."

Mello fell back into his bed. "Fine." He sighed. "I'm fine."

Matt smiled, knowing what the blonde really meant whenever he said he was 'fine'. "F-ed up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional?"

"Yeah." Mello smiled a bit. The pain in his eye made him flinch and he pushed himself back into the mattress as the memory of the explosion came flooding back.

Mello had jumped from his hiding place near the front of the stage, catching L by the collar and pulling the older man to the floor. The wave of fire that swept over him in the next moment pulled the air from his lungs. He couldn't scream. The deafening roar of the fire was all he could hear. The heat of the suffocating flames scorched his skin and melted the leather sleeve of his jacket into his left arm. But he'd protected L. And God had protected him.

Mello reached up to find his crucifix still placed firmly around his neck. There wasn't a scratch on it.

"I thought you might want that." The blonde looked up, surprised to find Near standing in the doorway. He looked a little thinner than Mello remembered. His trademark white outfit looked about a size too big for him now, and his platinum-blonde hair was thinner, hanging limply in his face.

"Near," Mello struggled to sit up again. "You found it?"

"Matt did. The paramedics wanted to leave it with L since his injuries weren't as…severe. I told them to give it back to you." Near shrugged as though it were nothing and walked away, disappearing down the hallway to L's room.

Mello curled his hand around the cold metal. "Matt?" he whispered. He looked over at the redhead, who had pushed his goggles up on his head, revealing those piercing green eyes.

"Yeah," the boy answered. "It was the weirdest thing, too. You'd think it'd be melted beyond all recognition, but I found it just like that. Bright as day, right in front of me."

Mello began to laugh softly. Warm tears flowed down his cheeks, stinging the fresh scar under his eye. He clutched the crucifix against his chest, sobbing.

Matt understood. He moved from his chair and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. He wrapped his arms around the blonde, holding him.

After several minutes, Mello had composed himself enough to speak. "I'm gonna kick your ass for seeing me cry." He choked, putting his arms around Matt's shoulders.

"Yeah, I know." Laughed the redhead. He pulled his fingers through Mello's soft hair, nuzzling against his neck. "And, Mels?" he whispered. "I'm glad you're alright."

********************************

"L," Quillsh said from the doorway, not wanting to startle the younger man. L sat in his bed, grey eyes distant.

"He's still alive." L said softly, staring out of his window at the falling snow. "You've sent him to prison, haven't you?"

"Once his wounds have healed, he'll be transferred." Quillsh answered, watching the man's reaction. L looked down for a moment, then returned to staring out the window. His gaze fell to the small boy curled up in his lap.

"I almost lost him." L said quietly, referring to Mello. He absently ran his fingertips through Near's hair. "And I know I'll lose him."

"That's why you make every day count." L turned his head to look at the man in the doorway. Quillsh's eyes were slightly misty. L understood it then. Quillsh had been scared to death. He thought he was going to lose him.

The younger man shifted uncomfortably, careful not to wake the sleeping boy lying in his lap. Quillsh knew how awkward emotional moments were for L, so he simply said, "They will clear Mello to return to the House in a few days. He'll be glad to see you."

As he turned from the man's bedside, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. He looked down into L's eyes. "Thank you, Quillsh." He said, a strange emotion tingeing his voice.

Quillsh smiled at being addressed by his real name. "No trouble."

********************************

Matt paced the floor of his room, nervously running his hands through his fiery red hair. How could they just contact him out of the blue like that? Who did they think they were?

His cousins back in Kansas had called Wammy's House two days ago, saying that they finally had their lives together well enough to take him in. They had sent him to Wammy's after his parent's murder-suicide. The last time he heard from them, the youngest was in jail for drug possession and Shelly and lost contact with Keith. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be around people who had so many problems, family or not. But maybe they really had changed. He really didn't know anymore.

What about Mello? He couldn't just up and leave the only real friend he'd ever had. Matt stopped pacing at the thought of the blonde. Mello had recovered well, but his scar still made him uncomfortable. He'd let his hair grow out and often let it fall over his left eye, hiding most of the scar. He still seemed shaken by what happened, even though it was his fault for trying to save L himself. Of course, if he hadn't, who knew what might've happened. If L had died, Quillsh would have been inconsolable. So maybe this was the best way things could've worked out.

Matt sat down on the edge of his bed. If he did leave with his cousins, he really would miss this place. He'd miss Quillsh trying desperately to keep the peace, and L sitting in that strange crouch, sipping sugar-laden tea from an old china cup, and the way Near always seemed to know what they were thinking, even when they didn't even know he was there. But he'd miss Mello most of all.

A smile touched the redhead's lips. Mello never failed to make things interesting. If nothing else, he was never boring. Was that how his life would be if he left? A boring, normal life? He wasn't sure how he'd be with that. He was so used to being in near-constant danger that a 'normal life' would probably put him to sleep.

But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. It had been years since he'd seen them. Maybe it could be like it used to be. Before everything happened. If he said goodbye to Wammy's House now, his friends wouldn't have a chance to leave him. They couldn't hurt him like his parents had.

So that was it. Matt reached over to his bedside table and picked up the old style telephone.

***********************************************************

A/N- Didn't really leave you hanging for too long there, did I? Then again, I never do. On this one, at least.

A story called 'Doll House' (also for Death Note) is my next project, considering I'm basically in the post-production stage of Mad WorLd.

(I need to stop begging for reviews. But still, thanks to everyone who reviews my work.)

Next: Chapter 21-Chasing Butterflies


	21. Chasing Butterflies

A/N-Still maintaining that this is a conceptually nightmarish literary train-wreck.

This chapter is a little shorter than the others (I think. I'm writing this at like 1:15 in the bloody morning.) Mello's doing better, Near's doing worse. The story's slowly starting to wind down.

**XXI-Chasing Butterflies**

It was a rare sunny day in Winchester. The warm feeling of spring was in the air. Out in the yard, Mello climbed after Matt, who sat on a low branch of a tall oak tree. The blonde's hair was brushed away from his face, revealing the scar. Strangely, Mello didn't seem to mind if Matt saw him like this. Possibly because the redhead had been there when the wound was fresh and when Mello had woken up in the hospital. Knowing the extent of the damage made it less of a shock, but it was still a jolt to see. Matt had trained himself not to cringe so as not to upset him.

Removing the melted leather from the blonde's arm had arguably been a bigger problem. He was lucky not to have any permanent nerve damage. His skin from shoulder to wrist matched the new skin of his facial scar in colour but was much smoother, looking much less like a burn scar.

"You seem to be doing better." Matt said as Mello sat on a branch on the opposite side of the tree. The blonde swung his legs like a small child, looking back toward the House with a slight smile.

"It doesn't really hurt anymore." He answered. "Just every now and then."

Matt leaned back a bit, holding on to the trunk of the tree to avoid falling backwards. "You and Near haven't been fighting as much." He said, looking at the windows on the top floor of the House until he found the one with the shades drawn over the glass. "He's doing better, too. He hasn't been coughing nearly as much these last few weeks."

"But he has to go back soon." Mello had stopped swinging his legs. He was staring at the ground beneath them.

"It's just a routine test, though. He'll be back in a few days." Matt leaned forward to get a better look at the blonde. Mello had folded his hands in his lap like a schoolboy. The gesture seemed too innocent. It looked out of place on him.

"That's what they said last time, too."

Matt watched him for a few minutes. He reached out to touch Mello's arm, hoping to reassure him. "He'll be fine." He said firmly.

After a moment, Mello nodded. He wanted to believe him, but he'd seen how weak Near had gotten the past few months. He could only work few an hour or two before he had to sleep. He'd been losing weight at an almost dangerous rate, and his coughing fits were getting worse. Mello wasn't sure how to act around him anymore.

"Hey," Matt said suddenly, "Look." He pointed out into the yard. It took Mello a moment to see what he did. A small cloud of butterflies were flitting around the bright flowers that covered the latticework that framed the garden. The redhead jumped down from the branch, landing on his feet and laughing, "Come on, Mels!"

Mello watched him run, wondering what he was planning to do. The redhead ran into the garden, scattering the small creatures. Mello laughed as Matt tripped and nearly fell into the rosebushes. The blonde climbed down from his perch, not quite confident enough to jump just yet, and followed the redhead into the garden, letting the butterflies cloud around him.

He'd always been fascinated by butterflies, though he'd never admit to it. They were so…free. But they don't live long, he thought. They were fragile. Like him.

A monarch landed in his hair, stopping to wash its feelers. It was peaceful. For once in Mello's life, he was peaceful.

Matt stood a few feet away, watching the blonde in the cloud of butterflies. He thought about telling him. He thought about saying he was leaving, that he was going home, but he couldn't. Mello seemed so happy. He would tell him goodbye, but not now. The moment was too perfect.

********************************

"It's amazing." Quillsh said softly, watching the boys in the garden through the panoramic window behind his desk. "He's recovered almost completely in the short time since the accident." It was Quillsh's way of referring to the explosion without mentioning Beyond. The man had tried to avoid the subject ever since all his boys had returned to the House.

L sat in his usual place in the overstuffed chair out of the sunlight that streamed through the glass. "He's very strong." He said thoughtfully, leaning forward to set the plate of strawberry cake on the coffee table. Quillsh turned from the window to face him.

"He's like you." The man said simply. L smiled a bit, looking down.

"Sometimes I wonder if that's such a good thing." The raven said softly. He stood as easily as ever from that strange crouch, crossing the room to stand in front of Quillsh.

The Englishman assumed that he would keep the usual distance between them, so he was a bit surprised when L wrapped his thin arms around his waist and rested his head on his chest. At first Quillsh placed his hands gently on the man's arms, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. When L didn't immediately let him go, the older man wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

"Happy birthday, Quillsh." L told him.

The man laughed gently, tightening his grip on the younger man's shoulders. Even if L was the only one who remembered, it didn't matter, because Quillsh had finally gotten what he really wanted for his birthday. A hug from his son.

********************************

"An inoperable frontal lobe tumor extending across the midline." The doctor muttered, flipping through the file he held. "Started as lung cancer and spread." He started to tap his fingers on his solid oak desk, looking at the medical report he'd just been handed.

"He'll start going downhill soon," said Dr. Brian Summers from the chair across the room. "Once that happens, it's only a matter of time."

"There's no cure for what he has, then?" Tyler Griffin sat up in his chair, hoping the older doctor would correct him, tell him he was wrong, as he so often did when he was an intern.

"No." Summers crossed his long legs and shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do anymore."

***********************************************************

A/N-It's getting very difficult to talk about Near.

(*Stops begging for reviews.* They're still nice, though.)

Next: Chapter 22-Jigsaw


	22. Jigsaw

A/N-Conceptually Nightmarish Literary Train Wreck.

I wrote this late at night. I'm stressing over other stories. But. I've got a good idea of where I'm going with Near's story now, depressing as it may be.

This chapter ends with a pseudo-MattxMello thing. Just warnin' ya now.

**XXII-Jigsaw**

A heavy coughing fit dropped the small boy to his knees. Near pressed a hand over his mouth, fighting to regain his composure. This was horrible. He couldn't stop shaking. Every night he'd wretch his guts up, and he'd wake up every day feeling a little bit weaker. It was so sickening.

The room was still spinning around him, nearly making him sick again. For the past several weeks he'd been feeling worse and worse. Nothing seemed to help anymore.

Quillsh had told the doctors off when they had said there was nothing more they could do. Near had never seen the man cry before then. The Englishman had sat at the boy's bedside the rest of the night, trying to reassure him, and himself as well, that Near would pull through. Sadly, the boy was finding that harder and harder to believe.

If he had Mello's faith, it might be different. He never really understood why the blonde clung so tightly to that necklace of his until now. It made sense. It gave him comfort when he needed it most.

What did Near have? His games and his puzzles. Small trinkets from a life half-lived. He was nothing like Mello. He just didn't have that kind of strength.

********************************

"How long?" L asked softly from his place on the couch. Quillsh paced the solarium like an expectant father.

"They don't know." The man answered, not looking at the raven perched on the couch.

"Watari." L's voice held a tinge of something strange. Quillsh couldn't quite place what it was. "He killed himself, didn't he?"

The older man turned slowly to regard the younger, who watched him with large, unreadable eyes. "Beyond?" he asked. L nodded. "He slit his wrists in the hospital. There was nothing they could do."

"We seem to be hearing that a lot lately." L said, standing gracefully from his awkward position. "First B, now Near. It almost makes you wonder who's next."

"You won't die, L." Quillsh told him firmly. "You'll never die."

"And neither will you." The younger man moved to stand in front of him, looking up into his eyes. Quillsh was amazed at the certainty he saw there. The man truly believed what he was saying. Logical L truly believed that Quillsh would be there for him. Forever.

"That's right." Quillsh began to smile. It felt like he hadn't smiled in years. But he could smile for L. And he could smile for Near. As much as it hurt, he could smile for his children.

********************************

Mello stretched his body like a cat, yawning. He was lying on the concrete bench in the garden near the backdoor of the mansion.

"I didn't know stray dogs took cat naps." Mello jumped and nearly fell off of the bench. He sat up, cursing in German and glaring at Matt, who was standing over him and grinning like a complete idiot.

"Go…away…loser." Mello said slowly. Matt laughed. He stepped forward and sat down on the concrete bench too close to the blonde.

"Hey," he said softly, ignoring the frigid look the boy was giving him. "I was worried about you. I'm glad you're alright, Mels."

"Yeah?" Mello asked, leaning closer. His voice was soft and slightly breathy. "Show me."

Matt gave him an uncertain smile. "I, uh…I-I've never kissed a boy before."

Mello laughed, gently pulling him closer. "Like this." He whispered. The blonde was so close that their lips brushed as he spoke. Matt could smell the chocolate on his breath. The redhead's eyes flickered closed, his heart pounding in his chest.

Matt twisted away with a snarl and Mello started to laugh.

"You're such a freak." The redhead joked, starting to laugh as well.

"Yes!" Mello clapped his gloved hands. "I am the King of gay chicken."

Matt shoved him in the shoulder, nearly falling over laughing. "Hey," he finally managed once he could breathe again. "I have to talk to you."

Mello froze at the tone of Matt's voice. He'd never sounded this serious before.

"I, uh," Matt stared down at his hands, clasped firmly in his lap. "I get to go home."

"What?" Mello almost shook his head. "You're leaving?"

"My cousins pulled their lives together and apparently want me back." The video game addict shifted nervously, scuffing his boots on the concrete. "You mad?"

Mello cracked him in the back of the head. "What are you, high?" he barked. "Yes!" The blonde snarled as he stood and started to walk away. How could he just up and leave like that after all they'd been through?

"Mello!" Matt caught him by the arm, forcing him to face him. "Don't do this. I don't want to leave things like this."

"Than don't leave." Mello said shortly.

"They're my cousins." The redhead replied. "What am I supposed to say? 'I don't feel safe with you. In fact, I feel safer in an orphanage with an albino, an eccentric weirdo, a guy who just got half his face blown off, and the old man that runs the joint, so scram.'?"

"Or a few words to that effect." Mello crossed his arms, Matt having released him while he spoke.

Matt stepped forward. "Listen. I-"

"Matt! Mello!" Quillsh was suddenly at the door. There was no mistaking the panic in his voice. "Get in the car." He wasn't yelling, but the tone was more than enough to make the two forget about their fight in an instant. Whatever it was had Quillsh panicked even worse than when L was missing. Something was very wrong.

***********************************************************

A/N- I'm afraid the clock is ticking.

(*Stops begging for reviews.* They're still nice, though.)

Next: Chapter 23-The Bells


	23. The Bells

A/N-Conceptually Nightmarish Literary Train Wreck.

This is a short, frightening, painful chapter.

**XXIII-The Bells**

L sat in the backseat of the car. His bare feet, pushed directly into his ratty tennis shoes, were on the floorboard for once. Mello could see him trembling as he held the small boy in his arms. L was slowly rocking them back and forth, large eyes fixed on the headrest of the passenger seat.

Near's white clothes were stained a dark red down the front, the blood drenched fabric clinging to his pale skin. The boy whimpered and coughed, pressing his frail hands over his mouth. Mello started as he saw the all too familiar crimson liquid flowing through his convulsing fingers. Warm tears ran in long tracks down the boy's face. He curled his small body against L's chest with a strangled, yelping cry, staining the man's white shirt.

Matt, crouching on the floorboard by Mello's legs, could only stare at the sight before him. He'd never seen Near this frightened before. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mello reach out a trembling hand toward the boy. To his surprise, Near reached for him, his movements holding a tinge of desperation akin to a child waking from a nightmare and reaching for his mother.

The blonde caught the boy's frigid hand in both of his. Near's dark eyes were wide and his breathing was shallow and too fast. His grip on Mello's hand was weak and almost fluttery, as though the boy's strength left him for a moment and then returned.

Quillsh never took his eyes from the road. He stared straight ahead as if the road were his only life line. No one had the strength to speak.

L's heart skipped as he felt the boy tense against him. Near tightened his grip on Mello's hand, turning his head and coughing again. But it didn't stop this time. Blood drenched L's shirt and he wrapped his arms around the boy as Near began to choke.

His muscles locked up, causing Mello to flinch at the sudden pain in his left hand. Near couldn't breathe and his body began to convulse. He coughed, blood splattering the leather seats as he fell into a seizure. L tightened his grip, locking eyes with Mello as Near kicked and thrashed against them, throwing his head back, struggling to breathe through the blood congealing in his throat. The effort caused an unnatural, bone-chilling hiss to fill the car. Mello lay across the boy's legs while Matt held Near's right arm to keep him from hurting himself.

In the driver's seat, L saw Quillsh wipe his eyes, not daring to look back. He had a death grip on the car's steering wheel. Near's seizures had always made it all too clear how sick the boy was. This was a thousand times worse.

After what felt like hours, Near finally stilled in L's arms, his eyes flickering open as though he were just waking up. Lying with his head in L's lap now, he reached up to the man once he realised what must have happened. L caught the boy's hand, squeezing harder than was necessary. He knew it would leave a bruise but neither of them cared. The raven placed his forehead on Near's shoulder, crying softly.

Matt let go of Near, moving to wrap his arms around the shaking blonde on the other side of the car. Mello had pressed his back against the door and wrapped his arms around his knees. He threw his arms around Matt's neck, clinging to him for dear life.

The car stopped and Matt heard Quillsh open the driver's side door. Mello watched L pick Near up bridal style and carry him towards the white building. The hospital, he realised. Thank God.

After a few moments, when Mello had stopped shaking enough to stand without swaying, the two left the car and crossed the parking lot. Quillsh was standing at the front doors, waiting for them.

********************************

Near sat in his bed, propped up on his pillows, piecing a puzzle together. He had to move slowly so as not to disturb the IV line in the back of his hand. L stood by the window, staring through the rain slicked glass at the fog-covered world outside. The curtain between the beds was drawn half-way even though Near was the only patient. It would keep the sunlight off of the boy's bed once the fog had cleared. For the last ten minutes, the two had stayed silent, listening to the heavy rain that pounded against the roof. But another sound had captured L's attention. The bells.

Near heard them too. The sound sent shivers through him.

"It's the bells." L whispered, staring at nothing. "They're loud today."

"They'll stop soon." Near said, his voice still rough. L flinched at the macabre meaning behind those words.

"You look like him." Near said softly. L flinched. He stared at his reflection in the glass for moment, amazed at the similarity. L shook his head.

"It's the church." He said, though he wasn't sure why he'd mentioned it at all. "Maybe a wedding or…" he stopped. He was slowing learning how to choose his words. And when to pull his punches.

L paused. "We'll be waiting for you at home."

********************************

Quillsh paced the entrance hall, his hands linked behind his back. Every now and again he'd glance up at the clock. Mello was sitting on a plastic bench, nervously bouncing one leg. Matt was playing his games again, but he'd died twice and didn't really seem to care. His eyes were large as saucers behind his goggles and fixed on the small screen of his Nintendo DS.

"He'll be fine." Quillsh repeated for the thousandth time since they'd arrived. "He'll be fine." He was speaking less to the boys and more to himself at this point, wishing that he had someone to console him.

Mello flinched and brought his hand up to touch the scar on his face. Matt noticed and turned to him, pausing the game without looking at the buttons. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"It's nothing." The blonde answered, leaning forward. He rested his elbows on his legs, letting his hands hang loosely between his knees. Small droplets of blood still clung to his gloves, but he seemed unwilling to remove them.

"You sound like Near." Matt said softly, then flinched. "I'm sorry." He murmured, looking up at Quillsh. The man shook his head, smiling a bit in that grandfatherly way. No matter how much it hurt, he could always smile for his children.

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A/N-That was…painful. Wammy's children mean the world to him, don't they?

(*Stops begging for reviews.* They're still nice, though.)

Next: Chapter 24-Stories From Our Childhood


	24. Stories from Our Childhood

A/N-Conceptually Nightmarish Literary Train Wreck.

A short, connecting chapter. A little bit about each of the boys. Because I couldn't sleep.

**XXIV-Stories from Our Childhood**

Mello woke with a start to find Matt slumped over in his chair, his head resting on the blonde's shoulder. The Nintendo DS the redhead had been playing the night before lay in his lap. The batteries had gone dead hours ago. Leaning back in his own chair, carefully, so as not to disturb Matt, Mello realised this was the second time he'd woken up in the hospital.

The redhead shifted and sat up, muttering something about zombie hookers. Mello decided it was best not to ask and settled for saying, "Hey, welcome back."

"Ow," Matt hissed, rubbing his neck. "'Welcome back' nothin'."

The blonde laughed, crossing his legs. He looked over at the small boy lying in the bed. The last week had been a complete rollercoaster ride, further reminding the blonde how much he truly hated roller coasters. Near was doing better and could even go home sometime next week if the test results were good.

"He's been sick for awhile, huh?" Matt asked softly, stuffing the game back into his jacket pocket.

"Yeah." Mello answered, watching the sleeping boy. As Near shifted gently in his sleep, Mello stopped to think of how pissed off he'd be in his situation. Knowing that he was running out of time and not being able to do anything about it. But maybe he would be happier knowing. He would know that he had time to say goodbye, and time to do everything he ever wanted to do. But he'd be all too aware of the ticking of the clock.

"So," Matt broke his train of thought. "Are you o.k.?"

"You've been asking me that non-stop for the past week." Mello answered.

"No. I've been asking if you're alright. It's not quite the same thing."

Mello rolled his blue eyes. "Fine." He said, aware of the double meaning. "Why?"

Matt looked down at the blonde's arm, hidden under a new jacket. Mello pushed his sleeve up without being asked. The red scars were still visible, but had faded considerably. Matt was relieved to see that, even after all the stress of the past few days, there were no new scars.

"What about you?" Mello asked, tugging the jacket off instead of just pulling the sleeves back down. Matt must have looked confused, because the blonde continued. "What's you're story?"

"You mean, why am I here?" Matt asked. Mello gave him a nod. "My parents… Well, my dad killed my mom and then shot himself." If he said it quickly, it didn't seem as painful. "Quillsh found me not long after that."

"_Es tut mir wirklich leid."_ Mello murmured, shifting uncomfortably.

"What?" Matt asked with a small smile.

"I'm really sorry." Mello translated. He sounded sincere.

The redhead laughed softly. "It's alright. You didn't know."

"At least you had parents." L said from across the room, quietly so as not to wake Near. "I never knew mine." The man was staring out of the window at the people passing by on the street below. "They abandoned me in an alley near the House, and Watari found me when I started to cry." He shifted his gaze to the boy lying in the bed. "It was the same story with him."

Mello looked at Near as well. "Me too." He whispered. "The alley by the garden." Mello flinched as the familiar pain stabbed through his hands. That wasn't entirely true. Mello had known his parents, but not a day went by that he didn't wish he hadn't. Every birthday, they would fight. Usually about him. And whenever they'd fight, he'd calmly walk out into the garden and slam his hands into the fence. The pain was a quick fix, but from there it only got worse. It became a compulsion, an addiction. Each time, it took more and more to calm him down. More and more until he could breathe again.

Finally, he'd had enough. One day, he simply disappeared. He doubted that his patents even missed him. And that was just fine with him. He had a new family now.

But there was a problem with that, too.

"You at least have cousins that love you." Mello said bitterly. He sighed and sat up straight. "And you should be with them." He said in a defeated sort of way. "_Vergissmeinnicht_."

He left it up to Matt to figure out what it meant, strolling easily out of the room, hoping to find Quillsh. The redhead looked at L, who was actually smiling. "What?" he asked. "What did he say?"

L only laughed and turned his attention back to the world outside. "Oh, nothing." He said softly. "Nothing at all."

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A/N-I know, short chapter. The next one's longer. Because there's only two chapters left.

(*Stops begging for reviews.* They're still nice, though.)

Next: Chapter 25-Last Train to Ellsworth


	25. Last Train to Ellsworth

A/N-Conceptually Nightmarish Literary Train Wreck Is Over.

Matt's going home. That's uh,…kinda it. Just basic wrap-up stuff, ya know?

**XXV-Last Train to Ellsworth**

"Finally going home, Dorothy?" Mello joked from the doorway. Matt turned to face the blonde, laughing gently. He realised then that the other boy wasn't wearing his jacket. The leather vest left his arms exposed from wrist to shoulder. His hair was brushed back revealing the burn scar on his face. It was clear that it still made him uncomfortable, but at least he'd stopped trying to hide it with his hair now.

"You're doing well." The redhead whispered with a small smile.

"I'm getting there." The blonde's German accent was a bit fainter but still noticeable. Mello leaned against the doorframe, pushing his hands into his pockets. He was still wearing his gloves. Something with a distant relation to sadness tinged his voice when he said, "It…will be lonely here without you."

Matt sighed, closing his suitcase. "Don't do this to me."

"I could have asked you if you think Near will be alright." All of Matt's good humour suddenly vanished.

"Don't ask me that." He said icily. He didn't want to think about it. Near was like a little brother to him. If he lost him… He sighed again. "Hey, do you remember when I first got here? The first night? I was crying, so you took me up on the roof to see the stars." As he spoke, he re-opened his suitcase and fished through it, eventually holding up a small bracelet. "And I was so happy." He continued, crossing the room to stand in front of Mello.

Taking the blonde's left hand, Matt slipped the bracelet around his wrist. It was a simple thing, really: a piece of smooth silver attached to a black cord. But right then it meant so much. Mello looked away. His eyes were starting to burn.

It was then that he noticed the date engraved in the metal. April 20th, 2007.

"This is…"

"The day we met." Matt smiled gently as Mello drug the back of his hand across his eyes. Then, in a rare moment of bravery, the redhead stepped closer and threw his arms around Mello's waist, hugging him.

It was strangely comforting, though he wasn't quite sure why. The soft smell of leather mixed with the faint scent of some slightly spicy German cologne that he had never learned the name of. Matt tightened his grip, though it was barely noticeable, and whispered, "I'll miss you, Mihael."

"How…?" Mello started, surprised to hear his real name spoken so easily.

"When you were in hospital." Matt told him. "Your name was printed on the chart."

A gentle rap on the wall called their attention to Quillsh, who stood just a few feet from them, smiling. "While I do hate to interrupt," he said with a good-natured smirk, "Your car is here, Matt."

Blushing a bit, Mello disentangled himself from the redhead. "Thank you, Quillsh." He said, surprisingly composed. "We'll be right down."

With a nod, Quillsh disappeared down the stairway. Mello and Matt stared after him, neither knowing quite what to say. Mello finally broke the silence.

"Strange, isn't it? To be saying goodbye." Glancing out from under a curtain of blonde hair, he caught Matt's eyes. The redhead laughed softly.

"I'm not really saying 'goodbye'. Because I'm not really going home." He flashed a heart-melting smile. Wammy's House was his home, and it always would be. The children here were his family. The only somewhat stable family he'd ever had. In that way, he and Mello were not so different.

The pair started down the hallway, splitting Matt's suitcases between them. At the foot of the stairs was L, face expressionless as always. Before Matt could speak, L threw his arms around him, pulling him into a close hug. Matt slung his free arm around the man's shoulders, returning the hug with a gentle laugh.

L released him and stepped back, only the slightest bit embarrassed. "Thank you." He said. He'd said it before but it never meant so much as it did right then. Matt smiled.

"No need to thank me." He said simply. It was clear to him why L had said that. He still felt grateful to all of them for saving him. To Mello especially. The man had nearly cost the blonde his eye. It wasn't impossible that even L would feel a little bit guilty.

"You should probably go." L was never good at goodbyes. "They're waiting for you."

Quillsh walked up to them, that gentle, grandfatherly smile fixed firmly on his face even though his eyes looked slightly misty.

Mello let Quillsh take the suitcases he'd been carrying. He couldn't watch Matt leave. He just would not let himself cry in front of L.

From the door, the redhead turned and waved before disappearing down the walk to the idling car. His cousins would take care of him now.

"We'll see him again." L said, his voice surprisingly soft.

Mello turned to face him, blinking to keep himself from crying. "Yeah?"

L smiled a bit, the first honest smile Mello had ever seen from him. "Yeah."

With that, L turned gracefully and disappeared through the door leading into the garden. Ever since the fiasco with Beyond, he'd began to spend most of his free time out there, lost in his memories. Mello gave a scoffing laugh, tossing his hair out of his face. He turned and began to climb the stairs for the thousandth time, wondering what Wammy's House would really be like without Matt.

What would it be like without Near? That thought stopped him in his tracks. There was always a chance that he could see Matt again, but Near…How much longer did Near really have?

As much as Mello hated to admit it, he just didn't know. Then the blonde did something he hadn't done in a long time. He prayed.

********************************

L jumped onto the concrete bench, looking out over the garden. It had been years since he'd sat outside like this. He gingerly reached up, touching the burn scar that ran across his chest. Mello didn't know that he was injured in the explosion, and L would most likely never tell him. The blonde had taken the worst of the damage by far. L could never repay him for that.

Sitting outside like this, he found himself thinking back to that day in the garden. The day after J was killed. He could smell the blood on the younger man's breath when Beyond had kissed him. He'd told Quillsh about being able to smell the blood, but not about how he'd noticed it. Back then, when it was so innocent, it had felt like love. L didn't want to give that up, even knowing how dangerous Beyond was, because he had never really known love.

That wasn't true. He thought back to the hospital and the way Near had fallen asleep in his lap, apparently seeking comfort. The love of a child for an older sibling. He remembered how Quillsh had cried when L had touched his arm. The love of a parent for their child. L sat back against the cold stone of the building. After a few moments, he unfolded his long legs, leaning back with his weight on his right arm.

For the longest time, he stared up into the clear sky, lost in his memories. The past few months felt like a dream from a lifetime ago. It was almost as though none of it ever happened. But, like Mello, L would always carry the scars with him. Beyond had been right. Neither of them would ever truly escape him.

L stood up, standing at his full height, and made his way back into the House. Mello would be looking for him. It was almost time for breakfast.

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A/N-Well, that's my story. I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read this thing all the way through, everyone who reviewed this story, and of course, the original creator of Death Note. Thank you, Tsugumi Ohba and I'll see you in court. 

(*Stops begging for reviews.* They're still nice, though.)


	26. Epilogue

A/N-I wanted to thank you all for being so great to me, so…I made you an Epilogue.

**Epilogue/March of Roses-The Colours of Life**

November 26th, 2014

Mihael Keehl stared over the snow-covered cemetery, somehow knowing what he'd find if he looked long enough. Sure enough, in a far corner of the field, he found it.

Nate River

August 24th, 1991-October 12th, 2011

Classy. Understated. Near.

Only 20 years old. Mihael shook his head, soft strands of brass-blonde hair falling gently into his eyes, over the faded scar that still marked him. He was still so young.

"He fought until the very end." Said a familiar voice from just behind him. Mihael spun to face Lawliet, as he'd done so many times before. The man hadn't aged a day. His wild black hair still stood on end, he still looked as though he'd slept in heavy makeup, and, as far as Mihael could tell, he was still underweight.

"It's been a while, Lawliet." Mihael said, pushing his hands into his pockets, and cocking his head. "You haven't changed a bit."

Lawliet laughed. "I could say the same about you."

It was true. At 20 himself, Mihael still had the body of a model. The dark scars that covered his arms had faded considerably. Most were only visible if you knew what you were looking for.

"Well, well, the gang's all here." Mail Jeeves sauntered up to them, green eyes shining behind his goggles. He was the only one of them who spoke with an American accent rather than an English one. He stopped between his two old friends.

"Mail." Lawliet said simply, acknowledging him.

Mail clapped him on the arm with a smile. Turning to the blonde, he laughed a bit, reaching out to hug him. Mihael rolled his eyes, but wrapped his arms around the redhead. "I missed you." The blonde whispered.

Mail blushed the same deep red as his hair, rubbing the back of his neck nervously when they stepped away from each other. "Jeez, Mello."

Mihael laughed gently at being called by his old name. "Hey," he said and held up his left arm. The silver bracelet dangled gracefully from his wrist.

Mail didn't know what to say. "You kept it." He finally managed.

"Of course I did." The blonde answered like it should have been obvious.

"Hey, lovebirds," Lawliet joked, crouching by Near's grave and laying his left hand on the tombstone. With that impossible grace he always seemed to possess, he laid a single white rose on the grass. White, for the purity in the beginning.

Mihael moved to kneel at Lawliet's side, drawing a single black rose from the bag he carried, and laying it gently across the white one. Black, for the end.

Mail knelt beside him, laying a red rose down to complete the design. Red, to remember the life lived.

"He would have liked to have been here, huh?" Mail asked Lawliet, swinging his left arm around Mihael's shoulders and placing his right hand on the edge of the grave marker, mirroring the raven.

"He is." The blonde said softly, curling a hand gently around his crucifix.

Lawliet smiled. "Yeah. He is." He whispered, carefully placing his right arm over Mail's around Mihael's shoulders. The blonde laughed, letting go of his cross and pulling his friends close as the snow began to fall.

And for a while it was just the four of them. Holding each other up.

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A/N-See you next time!


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